


Demons In My Head

by Cinnamean



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Demon possession, Fluff, Gen, Mabel and Dipper come in later, Manipulation, Memory Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sea Grunkles, Violence, Will add tags as I go, possible happy ending I don't know yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8870152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamean/pseuds/Cinnamean
Summary: Not all of Stanley's memories came back to him. Most were still locked away, always out of his reach. Sometimes they would come trickling back, but it had been almost a year since Weirdmageddon. Shouldn't he be fine now? 
With his brother offering no help, another being decides to give Stan a hand.
Semi-AU where Stanley doesn't remember everything and struggles to get his memories back.





	1. Chaptwah 1

Stanley Pines cursed his big, shaky old man fingers for the fifth consecutive time that day. Getting old was not as fun as it seemed in books or movies. Your body basically turned against you. Well, on the bright side, he wasn’t as bad as the other guys who were losing their hearing.

 

Wait, no, he had hearing aids. Um, he had his sight though, right? Nah, his was awful. He couldn’t even tell the difference between a car and a bear. 

 

Hm… Well, he wasn’t loosing his memories. In fact, he was more gaining them back than anything else. It was a hard process though. Going from not being able to remember his name to peachy-perfect couldn’t happen in a day, after all. 

 

Luckily, he had his family to help him. Mabel and Dipper were always there for him after he had lost his memories. Though, neither of them were quite as eager to help as his brother was. 

 

He remembered during the first week of loosing his memories how he had tried so hard. Talking to him daily and hardly ever giving Stan a moment of privacy. While it was annoying back then having some stranger following him around like a lost dog, he now appreciated the gesture. Now, thanks to his family, some of the holes in his head were filled. Even if they were only from the past summer and a some of his childhood. 

 

Speaking of summer, the rising temperature hinted at its arrival. He couldn’t wait to see his niece and nephew again. Video chats with awful reception got old fast. Stan and Ford had already arranged with their parents for the twins to stay with them in Gravity Falls again this summer. It was unfortunate that Soos wasn’t going to be there, but he had told them it’d be fine. He was going to visit some distant relatives with his grandmother in Spain anyway.

 

So the Mystery Shack was going to be all theirs.

 

Stan felt a rush of energy shiver through his body. So much was planned in his head already, he couldn’t wait for it. The best part about this summer was that he could get to spend some time with Ford this time.

 

“Lee!” he heard Stanford shout. “Did you finish tying up that net?”

 

Stan looked down at the poorly constructed net in his lap. He cursed his fingers a sixth time. “Sorry, Pointdexter. I, uh, got distracted.”

 

Ford took a seat next to Stanley, the gentle waves of the ocean rocking them slowly back and forth. He looked worried. “Do you need to talk about it?”

 

Stanley just rolled his eyes. “I didn’t remember anything new, don’t worry. Just...” he paused, looking at the horizon, grinning widely. “Thinking. ‘Bout this summer, ya’know? It’s going to be exciting, I just know it.”

 

There was a moment of peaceful silence. Stan was happy that his brother was here with him. It meant he wasn’t alone. Being alone never made him feel good. Now, being surrounded by those you love, best feeling in the world, hands down. Though, winning at gambling wasn’t too bad either.

 

The silence was interrupted by Ford clearing his throat. “Would you like me to help you with those knots? We’ll need these ropes for when we get around to the Gulf of Mexico.”

 

Stan handed Ford some of the rope. “Sure thing. You seem to be rushing though. We aren’t going to be there for a couple of weeks at the very least.”

 

“I don’t see a problem with being well prepared.”

 

The two of them returned to the peaceful silence, watching as the sun slowly lowered. When the sun was just starting to disappear over the horizon and the two twins were almost done, Stanley stood up, leaving his half of the net behind on the seats. Leaning against the boat’s railing, he watched as the sun finished painting the sky with shades of purple, orange, and pink.

 

Sunsets were one of Stanley’s favorite things. While he didn’t have a definite time, he knew that they’ve made him happy for a long time. In his opinion, he felt like they meant a second chance. Or maybe those were sunrises. Too bad he would never get up early enough to watch one. The only time he’d do that was when he was dead.

 

As the last few rays vanished and the sky turned darker, he heard the footsteps of Ford behind him. Looking over his shoulder to see what he was doing, he saw him holding up two mugs of hot chocolate, offering one to him.

 

Nodding his head in a silent thanks, he took the mug made by Mabel the previous summer reading “Best Grunkles” on the front. Blowing on it gently, he took a small sip, sighing in content as the sweet, warm liquid hit his stomach.

 

“Aren’t we running low on the cocoa powder?”

 

Ford shrugged. “You looked so happy watching the sunset,” he chuckled. “I thought you might appreciate the gesture.”

 

Stan scoffed. Those who didn’t know him would say he was being rude, but anyone who was close to the man knew that this was his way of showing thanks.

 

One of the best parts about being out on the ocean was being able to see all of the stars. With no factories, there is no pollution. With the sky so clear, the constellations were as clear as day. Ironic if you think about it.

 

Ford especially loved to look at the stars. When they were kids, Ford always raved on about space. Stan always found space to be scary, but all Ford could say was how it was fascinating. How there were endless possibilities beyond the Earth.

 

♦

 

" _I wish I could see all the stars. All the smog here makes it hard to see them.”_

 

**_Stanley wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders and grinned. “Don’t worry, bro! Once we’re out on the ocean, you’ll get to see all the stars you want!”_ **

 

**_Stanford smiled. “Yeah! Then I can see my favorite constellations in clear view. Orion is the best by far though.”_ **

 

**_“Okay, whatever, doofus.” He punched his brother in the arm, and Ford was quick to reply._ **

 

**_Both of them giggled as quietly as they could without waking up their parents. They weren’t too happy the last time they had caught them with the window open this late at night._ **

 

♦

 

Stanley rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. Regaining a memory never left a good feeling afterwards.

 

Ford noticed Stan’s sudden pain. “I think it’s best for you to go to bed now. After all, we are landing on a port tomorrow and we will need our rest.”

 

Stanley chugged the rest of his hot chocolate, finishing it with a sigh of content. “I didn’t know I had an old man curfew.” He pushed himself off the railing and popped his back. “If you’re forcing me off to bed then you’d better be doing the same or I’ll come into your room with my knuckle dusters. I won’t hesitate, old man.”

 

Stanford rolled his eyes and chuckled at the empty threat. “Sure, sure. Just go to bed. I want to look at the stars for a while longer.”

 

Stanley turned away towards his bedroom. “G’night, Ford.”

 

“Goodnight, Lee.”

 

Walking through the kitchen and down the stairs, Stan walked past the first two door before walking into his room.

 

The walls were made of new wood with a strong scent. The floor was bare except for the shag carpet he had nailed down so that it would stop moving. In fact, the worst part about moving in was having to nail everything down. All it did was ruin the floorboards.

 

His desk was in the corner with a small lamp and a couple of papers, a paddleball, and of course, his two pairs of knuckle dusters. One old and worn down, the other sharp and pointed. The first pair for defense, and the other for violent sea creatures. Next to the desk were double doors leading into his closet. In there was a chest full of his… _Books._

 

Stanley sat down on his bed, feeling it dip under his weight. Pulling his dentures out, he put them in the glass of water by his night stand for tomorrow’s use. That and his hearing aid. Now after stripping down to nothing but his usual striped boxers and tank top, he was set to go to bed.

 

After getting comfortable under the covers, he pulled a big, thick book off the nightstand and onto his lap. Just touching it left glitter on his hands.

 

♦

 

**_Before the twins had left, Mabel had approached him the day before, hiding something skillfully behind her back._ **

 

**_“Grunkle Stan?”_ **

 

**_“Yes, Mabel sweetie?”_ **

 

**_She unveiled said thing and Stanley was surprised. In Mabel’s hands was a thick scrapbook, similar to her own, but different in subtle ways._ **

 

**_“Well, I was thinking before I left that I should give you something to… remember us by,” Both of them grimaced at the choice of words. “So I decided to make you a scrapbook with most of our memories of summer. I wasn’t able to get all of the pictures, but I hope you still like it.”_ **

 

**_Stan took the book gently from her hands, not saying a word. Flipping through the bright, colorful pictures, he felt tears start to well in his eyes. And not just from the glitter that slipped its way past his glasses._ **

 

**_Mabel looked nervous. “Do you not like it? Shoot! I knew I should have just stuck with the ribbons instead-“_ **

 

**_She was cut off by Stan pulling her into a hug. She squirmed in surprise before melting into his embrace._ **

 

**_"Thank you, Mabel. I love it,” he said softly, trying not to make it obvious how close he was to crying._ **

 

**_“Grunkle Stan? Are you crying?”_ **

****

♦

 

Stan smiled at the thought of Mabel. Flipping the book open to the first page, his smile grew wider at the sight of the twins on their first day at Gravity Falls. Mabel looked ecstatic while Dipper had a bored-out-of-my-mind expression. At the top of the page was his niece’s loopy cursive.

 

“First day of summer!” it read. Even Mabel’s handwriting looked like her.

 

Stan saw a small note in the corner of the page that had a different style than his niece’s.

 

“Mabel got a splinter stuck in her hand from hanging up all her posters.” it read

 

He had read the same words over and over but they never failed to make the old man smile. The kids reminded him of himself and his brother when they were younger.

 

There was a sharp pain in his head. His hand dropped the book and massaged his head. Ouch, this one was a bad one. It was a little weird how sudden it was, but there was nothing he could do about that. Today wasn’t eventful so he had spent a lot of time dwelling on his past.

 

Stan tried to focus on the pages, but his pounding head refused. The words were sharp and the whiteness of the pages were too bright. He couldn’t read anything right now unless he wanted his eyeballs to walk out of his head in protest. Maybe he could just sleep it off.

 

Closing the book gently, he set in on the nightstand and snuggled under the covers. He curled up into a ball, his hands curled up by his chest and over the heart. His head still hurt, but there was nothing he could do about that. Well, there were the painkillers upstairs, but he was already under the covers. They were too far.

 

Stan stared at the back of his eyelids for what seemed like eternity until he finally lost consciousness. 

 

That night, he dreamt of an X in the sky.

 

♦

 

Stanley loved the ports. He didn’t know whether it was all the cooky people he got to see or if it was just the levels of energy practically rolling off the place, but he loved coming here with his brother.

 

Stanford stood at his side, smiling to himself. With the way Stanley was gawking at everything, you’d think he was a little kid instead of an old man about to be in his seventies.

 

The scent of freshly cooked food and seawater hung heavily in the air, setting a scene of nostalgia. Small restaurants and ice cream shops were scattered along the streets, doors open welcoming those who wanted something to fill their stomachs with sugary, fatty food. Stanley felt his mouth water at the thought of something sweet. Nah, he could get junk later. Right now, he wanted _real_ meat instead of all those dried out pieces of jerky. While they were undeniably good, they got old. 

 

“Hey, Fordsy, let’s go get some grub or something. I would kill for a steak right now.”

 

Stanford rolled his eyes. “We will get lunch later, Stanley. For now we need to get supplies for the boat,” Ford pulled out two slips of paper out of his pocket, handing the shorter one to Stanley. “You go get the basic necessities. I need to get some parts for a machine I’m building. Remember that pack of Selkies we found? Well I was thinking that if I were to-“

 

“Yeah, yeah, nerd stuff. Still didn't like when you invited one on board and invited them for tea. Not the smartest move on your part,” Stan cut off.

 

Snatching the paper out of Ford’s hand, Stan waved his hand. “See you in a couple of hours, Fordsy! Then you’re paying for lunch!”

 

Ford was swallowed up by the crowd, leaving Stan by himself. He had no need to be worried though since he had his knuckle dusters hidden away in his pockets for emergencies. The old ones, of course. No one would suspect N old man wearing a maroon hat and overcoat to be an excellent fighter.

 

Soon Stanley found himself further in town where he could find the actual stores. Looking for the first dollar store he saw, he stepped inside and pulled out his list.

 

Most items on there were normal such as toilet paper, toothpaste and so forth while others were more… Questionable.

 

“What the hell…? Ford, why the fuck do you need nail polish?” Stan muttered under his breath.

 

It was best not to question. For all he knew, Ford just liked to paint his nails or something. 

 

Who was he to judge. 

 

Stan threw the nail polish into the cart (a light purple, just like the list said) and went to look for some food.

 

He was never very good at this part. His mind always screamed at him to get tubs of ice cream and Pitt Soda, but he knew that his health wasn’t good enough to handle those kind of things anymore. He had to stay fit in order to be able to work on the boat anyway. Not to mention that the kinds of things he wanted would not last long out at sea.

 

Reluctantly passing the candy aisle, eyeing the toffee peanuts silently, he collected the things they would actually need like bread and canned foods. Stan practically grabbed all of the beef jerky there was since it was the only food he was allowed to have that would last on the boat. The salty meat was as good as he was going to get. He made sure to grab a box of cocoa powder too since they were running low.

 

Satisfied with the things he had thrown in the basket, he moved to the check-out. He paid the cashier and left the store. There were a lot of bags, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He didn’t spend most of his childhood in wrestling for nothing. 

 

It was a little quiet without Ford helping him though. Usually they would joke with each other all the way back to the boat.

 

Pain hit him in the head, similar to the one last night but worse. He briefly felt himself drop to his knees, hearing the cans hit the ground with loud bangs.

 

**_The back of his shoulder burned. He could feel the skin peeling off, the heat radiating off, contrasting with the chill winter air. His own screams echoed in his head, the sound of his brothers voice being drowned out. There was a flashing red light and a burning bright blue. His eyes hurt, his shoulder hurt…_ **

 

**_His heart ached with betrayal._ **

 

Stanley opened his clenched shut eyes, now aware that he was on the ground. He felt a hand on his shoulder and a voice saying something to him.

 

A dark skinned woman was standing over him, speaking rapid Spanish. He didn’t remember much of the language, but Stan could tell form her tone that she was asking if he was okay.

 

“No, no, I’m alright. Just got dizzy there for a sec’.”

 

Her eyes widened. “Alright,” she said with relief, switching to English. “Help with the bags?”

 

Stan looked at the cans trying to roll away and accepted her offer. It would take too long to pick all these up himself.

 

With a final wave and a thanks to the lady, he felt the exhaustion hit him full force.

 

He had no idea what had happened. One second he was fine and the next…

 

Stan shook his head. It was just a dizzy spell or something of the sort. He must not have been drinking enough water lately. 

 

Dragging his feet, he walked through the ports, not looking at any of the bright colors like he was that morning. At the moment, he was too tired to even raise his head. Stanley boarded the boat, glad to be back at what he called home. He dropped the bags in the shade on the deck, drained from the episode earlier.

 

Walking through the kitchen and into his room, he flopped down on his bed, completely and utterly exhausted. Earlier he had been of excited to go to lunch with his brother, but now he didn’t even want to leave the boat for a year.

 

The bed just was so comfortable right now to his aching muscles and head. Maybe a nap would do him some good…

 

“ **Well, well, well. How interesting.** ”

 

_A player enters the field._


	2. Chaptwah 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley ventures into his mindscape and runs into an old enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics - mindscape  
> Italics and bold - dream/memory

_Back and forth… Back and forth…_

 

_Stanley rocked on the swing slowly, swaying with both feet still planted on the ground. The soil was soft and squishy beneath his slippers. His mind was blank and eyes distant. The soothing motion made him forget what he was doing beforehand. That is if he was even doing anything before he had sat down._

 

_Back and forth… Back and forth…_

 

_If he was, it probably didn’t matter anyway…_

 

_Snapping out of his stupor, Stanley’s eyes focused and widened in surprised at his surroundings. He knew where he was, but it was the state of the place that surprised him so much._

 

_In front of him was the Mystery Shack, that much he could tell. While it looked almost exactly like the one he called home, it had some odd differences. The structure of the building was off and the sign on the front was spelt incorrectly. It’d be a stretch to even call it spelling._

 

_Stan turned his head, looking at the thousands of massive pine trees looming over him. The forest looked like it was closing in on him the more he looked. He tore his eyes away, staring down at his feet instead._

 

_The most noticeable thing about this place though was the colors. Or, should he say, color. Aside from himself, the entire landscape was grey as far as he could see. It made him feel like he was stuck in some old black-and-white TV show that he liked to watch as a teenager._

 

_Stan stood up and looked back at the swing set he had been sitting on. One of the poles was bent and the entire thing looked to like it was centuries old. Vines grew up along the sides and the chains were a rusty red. The most notable detail being the broken swing next to the one he was on, half of the seat missing and the other hanging off a single chain, the splintered end brushing the ground softly, swinging in the nonexistent breeze. The chains squeaked as it moved, making Stan feel nostalgic for some odd reason._

 

_Stanley remembered he and Ford would come to play on this swing set all the time as kids. He was sure they had continued to do so throughout the rest of their childhood, but he could only remember times from when they were in elementary and middle school. They’d claimed them as kids the moment they wrote their names on the bottom of the seats._

 

♦

 

**_The wind blew through his fluffy hair, cooling him from the summer sun’s burning heat. He could already feel the sunburn developing on the back of his neck. He felt his butt lift into the air for just a second when he peaked at the top and he laughed before jerking back down in his seat and swinging uncontrollably to the sides, accidentally kicking Ford in the shin._ **

 

**_“Hey! Stanley, careful! I don’t want another bruise, man.”_ **

 

**_“That’s why you gotta swing with me, doofus! Get your nose outta that book and have some fun.”_ **

 

♦

 

_The swings stopped with a final creak. He took this as a sign for him to keep moving._

 

_Stanley spun around on his heel, turning to explore the rest of this weird place. Walking closer to the Mystery Shack, he noticed that half of the house was falling off a cliff. The broken pieces of tile and wood were suspended in air, as if time had frozen in its tracks._

 

_Continuing on his quest of curiosity, Stan stepped through the familiar door of the shack expecting to see the living room and kitchen waiting for him. The last thing he expected to see was thousands of doors suspended in the air and a long set of stairs leading downwards. Stanley looked over the railings, unable to see where the steps ended._

 

_His urge to explore died down for a split second before it was rekindled within an instant. A couple of creepy-ass stairs and doors wouldn’t stop him! Although the lack of color did make everything a lot more eerie than it should have been._

 

_Stanley took a step on a stair just to jerk forward and almost fall into the endless white void below. The step had nothing beneath to support it so when he had stepped on it, he had lost his balance. Sort of like when you step onto a small boat and wobble before you can stay upright._

 

_Thankful for the railing, Stanley gripped the metal tightly, not trusting himself to not lose his footing and fall into oblivion. He went down the stairs slowly, the number of doors growing considerably the further he went. He tried leaning out and reaching to grab a handle, but his fingers could only brush against the nearest one._

 

_Bouncing the last step after what seemed like hours, Stan walked through a hallway with even more doors than before. Luckily, this time they weren’t floating like the ones earlier. Each door was fixed to a wall, ceiling, or some even the floor. Some were almost microscopic and others both of his hands couldn’t wrap around the knob because of how gigantic they were. He kept walking through the corridor, but curiosity got the best of him. He twisted the knob of an averaged size old door with numbers carved into the wood._

 

_When he opened the door, the amount of color inside made him squint._

 

♦

 

**Stanford laid in bed, sick with the flu. A high fever flushed his face, showing no signs of breaking any time soon. He obviously was not going to school today much to the distress of the sick fourteen year-old boy.**

 

**_“I can’t stay home, Stanley! I have that big test for Algebra I in three days and it’s going in as our final grade! Oh gosh, Stanley, I can’t miss it. I won’t be able to get into a good college and my life will be ruined and-”_ **

 

**_Stanley listened to his brother’s rambling from his bottom bunk. A sense of guilt washed over him. It was his fault his brother was sick. He had forced him to go out and work on the boat in the middle of the rain. Gosh, he was such an idiot. Now both his dad and his brother were mad at him._ **

 

**_He had to make things right._ **

 

**_Stanley waited until it was the middle of the night and he was absolutely certain that his brother was asleep before he reached into his brothers backpack and grabbed the biggest textbook he saw. Pulling it out slowly as to not wake his brother, he flipped it to one of the many pages bookmarked with pink sticky notes._ **

 

**_Looking at the page made his head swim with numbers. What even were half of these symbols? It was like looking at a completely different language!_ **

 

**_He pushed the book aside. There was no way he could do this by himself. Ford was just going to have to suck it up with whatever grade he got._ **

 

**_Just as he got up to put the book back, his brother coughed loudly, making Stanley jump. He quickly switched off the lamp and turned to his brother while hiding the closed textbook behind his back._ **

 

**_“Stanley?” Stanford mumbled tiredly, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing up so late?”_ **

 

**_“Oh, nothing,” Stanley said as steadily as he could. He had never been very good at lying to his brother. “I’m jus’ readin’ a book. Of mine. Not yours. Yeah.”_ **

 

**_Jeez, that was such a bad excuse, like Ford would ever believe that! Stanley hardly ever read anything. Unless if it was something about sailing or had a lot of adventure and violence, but even then the chances were low that he’d finish it._ **

 

**_Ford yawned indifferently. “Whatever. Just don’t make any noise.”_ **

 

**_He fell back asleep and would not remember any of the conversation in the morning. It seemed as if everything Stan had said to him went in one ear and out the other._ **

 

**_Now remembering why he was even holding his twin’s textbook in his hands, Stanley pried it open once again and read. He studied all through the night until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He constantly felt falling asleep in his classes at school, but the pressure of the three day deadline kept him going._ **

 

**_Then, it was the day of the test._ **

 

**_Stealing Ford’s glasses and borrowing his clothes, he threw them all on quickly. The prescription of the glasses were different than his, but it didn’t matter to him. He never wore his own anyway, so what did it matter?_ **

 

**_As soon as he was properly disguised as his brother, he dashed out of the house before his mom or dad could see him. If he rushed to school, then maybe he could cram in some more studying for a couple more minutes._ **

 

**_Forging his father’s signature, he slipped a paper to the front office stating that “Stanley” was sick at home. The lady took it before dismissing him with a grumpy “Thanks”. Stan sat down at a table and pulled out the textbook he had been reading almost religiously for the past few days._ **

 

**_The bell rang. Three stapled pieces of paper covered front to back in numbers and mathematical symbols was slapped down on his desk. Pulling out his chewed pencil, he wrote his brother’s name at the top._ **

 

**_He passed the test with a 92% and Ford never figured out that Stanley took the test for him._ **

 

♦

 

_Stanley closed the door, a grin on his face. His brother still had no clue that he had done that for him. Despite what his grades said, he could be smart if he put his heart into it. You just had to know how to motivate him in the right way._

 

_His surroundings didn’t intimidate him anymore. If anything, it now felt like another home to him. This place belonged to him. A literal house of memories._

 

_Now confident, he opened another door to look inside._

 

♦

 

**_The hammering of nails mixed with the sounds of waves crashing on the sandy shores. Seagulls cried, flying above to scout for food. Down below was a set of ten year-old twins on the beach._ **

 

**_“Fordsy, hand me that nail would’ya?”_ **

 

**_Ford “mmfh-ed” in reply, stopping his own hammering to hand his twin a nail he was holding in his mouth._ **

 

**_“Thanks.”_ **

 

**_Another indiscernible noise._ **

 

**_The small set of twins did not know what they were doing other than attempting to nail up the holes in the bottom of the ship. It wouldn’t be until a year or two later that they would realize they have been doing everything wrong and have to pry the sloppily nailed on boards off._ **

 

**_Though the twins couldn’t wait to sail around the world together._ **

 

♦

 

_This memory wasn’t as long as the other one, but just as heartwarming and nostalgic. Now he finally was sailing around the world with his brother. Although, it was odd why it took them so long. Probably because Ford had taken so long to get out of his college or something like that. He never really told Stan much about the past now that he thought about it… Probably just because they never dwelled on it for too long. His brother knew that regaining memories wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world for Stan._

_Walking through the hallways, doors swung open left and right, up and down, echoing the memories of his childhood and preteen years. He didn’t bother to look inside them; seeing as he already knew what was inside of them just from the sounds coming from within._

 

_However, it seemed like the further down the hallway he went, the more muffled and quieter the twins’ laughter got. Conversations sounded like hushed whispers and the laughs were more like choked sobs._

 

_Taking a peek inside one of the muffled doors, he was met with the sight of pure static. The sounds coming from inside did not seem to be the brightest ones. Yelling, crying, and thumps all came from within. He could not make out any of what they were saying though… Was this a memory he had not remembered yet?_

 

_Stanley tried to step inside and see what was happening, but he only got halfway in until the memory repelled him, making him to slam back into the wall. Picking his hat off the floor, he tried once more, getting only an inch further this time until the door flung him back again._

 

_The same thing happened each time he tried to go through. The sound of static was hurting his ears at this point. Every time he tried to push his way in, the sounds got louder and louder._

 

_The old man was getting increasingly frustrated. Was it too much to ask to gain all his memories back? Really?! He punched the door frame out of frustration, the static-y memory rippling like water._

 

_A high-pitched laughter echoed from every direction. It vaguely reminded Stanley of someone he could not quite put his finger on… Then it clicked._

 

_“Bill,” Stanley muttered darkly, taking on his fighting stance on instinct._

_As if on cue, the glowing, one-eyed triangle appeared with a bright flash of light, opening his eye slowly and gazing down at Stan with his single slitted pupil. He crossed his legs and leaned back, twirling a cane he had conjured out of thin air. “_ **Well, well, well, if it isn’t Stan Pines!** _”_

 

 _Stanley lunged forward, looking to land a punch on the damn tortilla chip. A battle cry tore its way out of his throat, helping him to build up his momentum and make sure this one really_ hurt. _He clenched his eyes shut to brace himself, and swung his fist forward as hard as he could._

 

_When he hit nothing but air, he opened his eyes to find himself back in the same spot he was before. He hadn’t moved even an inch._

 

_Bill cackled, letting go of his cane. Stan watched as the stick continued to twirl on its own in the corner of his eye. “_ **You really think you can hurt me, Fez? Well, I guess I can’t call you that anymore,** _” Bill stretched his arm and flicked Stan’s hat. “_ **Guess I’ll just have to find another nickname for you then. Wrinkly-Blood-Puppet sounds good to me!** _”_

 

_"What do you want, Bill?! I thought we defeated you!”_

 

_Bill circling around Stanley while speaking. “_ **You really think you beat me, you insufferable sack of disappointment?** _” He grew in size and got close up in Stanley’s face, his pupil as tall as Stanley was himself. “_ **I am an immortal being! You can’t kill me with some hunk-of-junk memory gun!** _”_

 

_Stanley’s fists were sweating. He hated to admit it, but the demon intimidated him. Not that he would ever admit that out loud to a living soul._

 

_Bill shrunk back down to normal and rolled his eye dramatically. “_ **You didn’t even give me a chance to offer my deal yet!** _”_

 

_Stanley’s head snapped up to look up at the floating triangle. “What do you mean by deal? I’m not doing any business with you, demon. You might as well leave.”_

 

_Bill disregarded Stan’s last comment, waving a hand as if it were some pesky bug. Instead of saying some witty remark, he pointed behind Stan. “_ **See that door there behind you, Stanley? The one you so rudely disrespected earlier?** _”_

 

_Stan turned his head to acknowledge the ajar door, the static still present and the muffled sounds growing louder. “Yeah, and what about it?”_

_“_ **You want to know what’s in it, don’t’cha?** _”_

 

_“Not with help from the likes of you.”_

 

 _Bill huffed, crossing his arms and legs while pouting. “_ **No need to be difficult here, Mr. Wrinkles. Just trying to help you,** _” Bill drifted closer, placing an arm on Stan’s shoulder and leaning on him. “_ **Y’know, like the friends we are and all.** ” _Sarcasm was practically dripping off of his words._

 

_Stan didn’t notice it, but the hallway the two of them were in was slowly starting to fade away to white. The entire place was slowly erasing itself away. Stanley was too angry at Bill to hear the muffled voice of Ford calling for him in the distance._

 

_"No chance, Bill. I’m not falling for any of your tricks-“_

 

_“_ **Ap!** _” Bill cut him off. “_ **It seems like you’re waking up already. It’s been a pleasure chatting with you, Sleeping Beauty. Now it’s all just a matter of you remembering this conversation with me,** _” he paused, adjusting his bowtie and giving Stan a meaningful stare. “_ **Keep my deal in mind, Stanley Pines! You'll have to give in sooner or later. Curiosity was always a weakness to you filthy humans.** _”_

 

_Stan opened his mouth to say something back, but he was not given a chance to before Bill flicked him in the forehead._

 

_The world disappeared with a bright flash of light._

 

♦

 

Stan woke up in a cold sweat, his sweater sticking to his back when he sat up. Groaning in disgust, he peeled the disgusting, sweaty wool off of his back. He would have to wash this soon somehow. Didn’t want to waste fresh water on his shirt though, even if it was his favorite. It matched with his hat perfectly. 

 

Speaking of the hat, he found it on the floor, knocked off his head after his nap. Man, he really needed to stop dropping his hat or else he was going to lose it.

 

It was weird how he woke up all wet though. Probably had something to do with him falling asleep in a sweater and a trench coat. Now that he was shirtless, the salty sea air drafting through made him shiver.

 

Stanley was broken out of his thoughts when he heard his brother shouting his name, a slight undertone of panic laced into his voice. Thinking something was wrong, Stan quickly grabbed the nearest clean shirt and ran up the stairs. A thousand scenarios shot through his head all at once. Shit, Ford wasn’t hurt, was he?

 

Throwing himself up the last steps, he ran to his brother. “What’s wrong? Did something happen-“

 

Ford pulled him into a tight hug, his twelve fingers pressing into Stan’s back, the tight embrace effectively cut off his words. Stan hesitantly wrapped his arms around his brother, not knowing what was going on. Why was he so worried exactly?

 

After an awkward amount of hugging, Stan cleared his throat, telling his brother enough was enough.

 

“Oh, sorry about that,” Ford said, pulling away from his brother and adjusting his glasses awkwardly. “I just saw the bags thrown all over the kitchen and panicked I guess. Sorry.”

 

Stan noted how the supplies he had gotten earlier were strewn across the floor, all having fallen out of the bags when he had carelessly dropped them when he had gotten back.

 

“Uh, yeah… Sorry about that, Fordsy. I was tired when I got back so I just kinda threw them down and took a nap downstairs.”

 

Ford frowned and his eyebrows drew together in concern. “That isn’t like you, Stanley… Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, _Mother_ ,” Stanley said, trying to laugh it off. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

 

“But you went to bed so early-“

 

“Stanford, I’m fine.”

 

Ford’s mouth snapped shut. It was rare that Stan ever used his brother’s full name, only doing so when he was serious. His brother’s jaw clenched, obviously wanting to say more, but with a sharp glare from Stan, his jaw went slack and he sighed.

 

A tense moment hung over the two of them. Ford coughed into his fist, looking down at the scattered groceries. “How about we put these things away now then?”

 

Stanley relaxed his shoulders, the tension releasing. “Yeah, sure, Pointdexter.”

 

A certain demon watched the encounter from afar, laughing to himself inside of Stan’s mindscape. Oh, how he missed messing with his favorite toys.

 

Now to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... What's that sketchy dorito up to now?  
> Thanks for taking the time to read this!


	3. Chaptwah 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Ford get some quality bonding time as they go hunting for anomalies :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Holidays got me a little busy.

The wind was nonexistent and the sun would not cease beating down on Stanley’s back. He’d wanted to wear the sweater Mabel had made him at the end of summer, but that was not the best of choices with how the weather was outside.

 

The water was completely still except for the occasional ripple of a fish touching the surface. He hated when they did that. They made him think he had spotted the anomaly only to let his Ford down when he shouted for him.

 

A tired sigh passed his lips. He seemed to always be tired lately. Now he couldn’t function without getting at least thirteen hours of sleep. This didn't count the naps he took during the day, either. Stanley hoped it was just an old man thing and not him getting sick.

 

Ford babied him like a mother hen, constantly worried about the simplest of things. If Stan said his head hurt (which was quite often), then Ford would run to get the bottle of aspirin. Honestly, it was getting a little annoying as of late. Stan never liked to be worried about. It put a lot of stress on him.

 

Another fish kissed the surface.

 

Another sigh blew past.

 

The beginning of another headache started beating his head.

 

Stanley groaned and rubbed his eyes. Looking out at the glistening water hurt his eyes, the aching in his head only intensifying. He’d kill for another nap right now, but it would only make Ford worry even more. After all, he’d woken up late this morning despite going to sleep early last night.

 

Stanley felt like he was forgetting something. He’s felt like this for the past two days now. The kind of forgetfulness where your entire body feels torn from the earth and your brain is looking in every corner it has to find out what you’re missing. But, no matter where you look, you just cannot find out what it was. The feeling always intensified when a headache started.

 

Trying to distract himself, Stanley stood to grab some beef jerky. Ford was still downstairs, so maybe he could sneak some of the more-than-likely fake meat.

 

Just as he picked up a bag, his brother ran out of the kitchen, waving a stack of papers wildly.

 

“Stanley! Guess what I found-“ His brother looked down at the bag in Stanley’s hand. “Jerky. Down.”

 

Stanley pouted, slowly putting the bag back in the cabinet.

 

“So, what’d you find?” Stanley asked, attempting to make his brother forget Stan’s theft.

 

Ford narrowed his eyes slightly, knowing his brother was trying to avoiding his punishment. Not that he would do anything other than nag Stanley. “Well, after analyzing more information I gathered about this new anomaly, including the past history and lore of the area, I think I’ve found out just what we are dealing with here! It is a good thing that the machines found it as soon as they did. There is a whirlpool here in the Doldrums. However, this is no ordinary whirlpool.”

 

He stopped to look at the papers he was holding, adjusting his glasses.

 

“The whirlpool we are dealing with here is a wormhole. Since it’s in the middle of a whirlpool from what the data suggests, I decided to call it a wormpool.”

 

Stanley barked a laugh. “You’re calling it _that?_ ” He finally caught his breath and hacked into his fist. “Sixer, no offense, but that’s a little cheesy. Sounds like a kiddie pool full of worms,” Stan shivered in disgust at the thought. “Disgusting.”

 

Ford blushed. “There are worse names for things out there, Stanley. I’d like to see you think of one yourself.”

 

He shrugged. “I’m not the scientist here, you are.”

 

“Whatever,” Stanford said. “But I want to go on the spare boat to find it later in the day. There’s very little research about wormholes in general. Wait till people learn that there are some in our very own oceans!”

 

Stanley rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you go show those other nerds who’s boss. Why don’t you just go ahead and…” Stan trailed off, completely forgetting what he was saying. His eyes were unfocused and he vaguely felt himself loose his balance before he was thrown into a memory.

 

♦

 

**_The world was in chaos. Fire on the streets, fields of weirdness bubbles were around every corner, sending most folks to the brink of insanity._ **

 

**_“Mabel! Dipper! Kids!” Stanley yelled, his voice more hoarse than usual from his shouting._ **

 

**_He’d searched all day but had found no sign of either twin. He thought back to his talk with Mabel, how distraught she had looked. Stanley hoped she was faring well in all of the madness._ **

 

**_Stan rounded a corner only to be met face to eye with a flying eye, its bat-like wings flapping erratically. The monster bathed the him in a red light and he ran away just seconds before he was turned to stone._ **

 

♦

 

“Stan! Stanley!”

 

 Stan’s eyes shot open and he choked on his spit. He coughed in his fist violently, feeling Ford pat on his back. His other hand gripped into the seat’s cushion that his brother had moved him to just before he had fallen. 

 

“Stanley! Oh my gosh, are you alright?”

 

The younger twin pulled away his hand from him mouth, looking for his glasses only his and finding them in his brother’s hands.

 

“’t’s nothin’, Ford. Just a new memory,” Stan mumbled tiredly, pushing his glasses back on.

 

Ford looked even more concerned. He placed a six-fingered hand on his brother’s shoulder and gave him a slightly awkward side hug.

 

“Would you like to talk about it?”

 

Stan hummed to himself. “It wasn’t anything too horrible. Wasn’t even that detailed, now that I think ‘bout it. Just a small something from Weirdmageddon.”

 

Ford stayed silent.

 

"I was trying to look for Mabel and Dipper. Think it was the day the thing started. I remember screaming for them,” Stanley drummed his fingers on his seat. “I turned around a corner only to run into one of those floaty eye-bat things. That’s all that I remembered, I think.”

 

The air was quiet, the boat rocking them both gently. Another fish swam to the surface, sounding a small ‘plop’. 

 

“I found the coordinates of the wormpool,” Ford started, pausing to think of what to say. “If you’re feeling up to it, would you like to come with me? I understand if you don’t.”

 

“Psh, of course I’m coming with. Someone has to look after you. Besides, I can help you row the boat while you man the maps and science-y junk.” Stan punched his brother lightly on the arm and stood up to stretch his arms over his head.

 

“Actually, I think I’ve been a little too strict with you, Stanley,” Ford said, scratching the back of his neck. “You can have some jerky if you want.”

 

“Nah,” Stanley waved him off. “Lost my appetite anyways. I’ll just make some coffee or hot chocolate for us when we get back, deal?”

 

Stanford nodded. “Yeah, let’s do that. Want to watch the sunset again, as well?”

 

“You bet your bottom dollar I do.”

 

♦

 

Stanley grunted from effort, pulling the ends of the paddles up and propelling the boat to move forward. The heat was killing him right now, especially with his restricting life jacket. Ford told him he couldn't come unless if he had it. He was glad he had left his hat back at the ship instead of wearing it now. Now he if only he had changed out of his sweater.

 

He now regrets not taking up Ford’s offer of jerky. Now he just has to look forward to when they got back to watch the sunset.

 

Stanley’s muscles started to burn from the work. He needed to start lifting weights again if this was tiring him out, ironic with the amount of sleep he was getting. Maybe it was the excessive sleep that was making him turn soft.

 

Stan grit his teeth shut, sucking air in heavily and blowing it out. His biceps and forearms throbbed and ached, but he was the one who agreed to come. Didn’t mean he couldn’t complain about it later, though.

 

“Stanley, stop. You’re heading northeast. We need to go…” Ford looked down at his map and compass. “- northwest. Then the wormpool should be right under our noses.”

 

“I seriously still think of a kiddie pool every single time you say that.” Stan while rolling his eyes. He grunted as he tried to turn the boat smoothly.

 

They hadn’t taken the Stan O’ War on this journey because Ford claimed that it was too big for them to find the anomaly. “The boat might glide right over it,” is what he had said. So instead, they had taken the small rowboat tied on the side of the ship. _Stan Jr._ is what Stanley had named it when they’d gotten it.

 

The boat was puny with only two seats inside. Worst part was that the wood gave you splinters if you touched it with your bare skin. Ford had the misfortune to learn this when he tripped into the boat face first when the two of them were going to discuss trades with merpeople. Key words being going to. They ended up staying on the boat pulling the wood out of Ford’s face instead.

 

After that incident, they were careful to wear gloves whenever they were even near the boat. They didn’t have enough money to get a better one, so for now they were stuck with the one they got in the dump.

 

Ford was looking closely at a map with a marker in his hand and trying to pinpoint where they might start seeing the effects of the wormhole.

 

The weather abruptly dropped, making the brother’s both shiver. 

 

“Did you feel that, Ford?” Stanley asked.

 

“Yes, we’re getting close.”

 

A drop of water splattered on Ford’s map. Thinking it might be the spray from the ocean, he simply dabbed at the wet spot with his shirt and thought nothing of it. It was only when more spots appeared and here kept feeling drops of water on his head when he figured out it was starting to rain.

 

Stanley quickly caught on as well. Not having his head on meant he could feel every drop land on his head. Dread dropped heavy in their stomachs. Storms in the doldrums were not a thing to joke around with. Especially not potentially magical ones. Only God would know that would end.

 

The rain quickly got heavier, pounding harshly on the twins’ backs. Luckily it was just rain and not hail. The last thing they needed was a huge block of ice crashing through the bottom and sinking them.  

 

“Ford!” Stanley yelled over the din. “We need to turn back! The boat can’t handle this rain!”

 

Ford shook his head, clutching his maps, data and compass close to his chest so they wouldn’t get too soaked. “No, Stanley! Just a little further, we’re almost there!”

 

A wave crashed into the side of the boat, almost making them fly out. Stanley let go of the paddles, choosing to cling on for dear life to the boat instead. There was no way he was going out of this world by drowning. No thanks.

 

“C’mon, Stanley! We can do it!”

 

Ford was holding onto the paddles so that they would not fly into the water. If that were to happen, then their chances of actually surviving this would drop to the single digits.

 

Each taking a paddle, the two of them pushed them boat forward the best they could. Everything hurt, but there wouldn’t be anything left to hurt if the boat toppled over.

 

Stanley’s clothes stuck to him uncomfortably, making it feel like he was already swimming in the ocean. The sweater’s absorbent material weighed him down and itched. If he thought paddling was hard earlier, it was nothing compared to how he was feeling now. Just lifting his arm made him want to tear it right out of its socket to stop the pain.

 

Another wave shoved the boat. Salt water got in Stanley’s mouth and he quickly spat it out. The disgusting taste of ocean was still strong on his tongue.

 

Ford wasn’t faring any better. Salt water had gotten past his glasses and into his eyes, the saltiness burning his eyes. He was forced to keep his eyes open though unless if he wanted the boat to get way off course. Then again, he couldn’t really tell where he was going at this point, mostly wishing for the storm to end.

 

After a particularly violent wave, the boat almost tipped dangerously. The edge had gotten so close to being submerged that some of the sea water had filled in at the bottom. Their feet were drowning in the water on the floorboards, but they were just thankful it wasn't enough for the boat to go down and kept going.

 

The storm raged on for a long, harsh hour. Sometimes the rain would lighten only for it to start pouring buckets once again. Eventually though, the storm left as quickly as it had come. One second the pair of old twins were struggling to keep the rain from sinking them and the next the sea waters were calm and the peeked out from behind cottony clouds.

 

It took the two of them a second to realize what had happened and that no, it was not some crazy hallucination.

 

“Christ, I thought it’d never end,” Ford exasperated, breathing heavily. He pulled his maps and supplies out of his vest. “Agh, this map is destroyed… It won’t last much longer when we get back to the Stan O’ War.”

 

Stanley was leaning heavily with his back pressed against the side of the boat, still trying to catch his breath. The whole ordeal completely washed him out. Literally. 

 

“So,” Stanley cleared his throat and spat out some salt water. “Where exactly is this anomaly we are looking for now?”

 

Ford’s brow creased. “Um…” He looked down at his papers, looking at them from angle. Scanning the endless sea around him, he turned back to his brother after sucking in a deep breath.

 

“I don’t exactly know. We should be right on top of it according to these coordinates…” Ford picked up the ruined map. “Maybe I didn’t set us on the right course? No, it was probably the storm that threw us off so far.”

 

Stanley threw his arms in the air out of frustration. “Great! We came out here for absolutely nothing! Hope you liked wrestling with the waves, Ford, because that’s the most we did here!”

 

Stan turned away and pouted, crossing his arms and resting them on the hem of the boat before laying down his head. Grumbling, Stanley scanned the waters slowly to see if they had lost anything out of the boat. Or that’s what he’d say when in reality he was just trying to distract himself from a forming headache. Now was definitely not the best time for one.

 

Looking off a few meters away, Stan’s eyes widened, standing up from excitement.

 

“Ford, Fordsy, Sixer,” Stan yelled, shaking his brother’s shoulder for his attention.

 

Ford sighed. “I know you probably aren’t the happiest with me right now but that does not mean you have to manhandle me-“

 

“No, no, Ford, look over there. I think I found it.”

 

Ford pushed his brother to the side gently, quickly looking over the waters to find what his brother could be talking about. “I don’t see anything.”

 

“You’re looking in the wrong direction!” Stanley grabbed his brother’s face and jerked it to the side. “It’s over there!”

 

In the water, there was a tiny, swirling whirlpool. Or as Ford constantly corrected, a wormpool. It couldn’t have been bigger than Stanley’s fist. It would be easily looked over if you weren’t searching for it in the first place.

 

“Oh my gosh! Stanley, row us over! We need to gently move the boat there as to not disturb it. I’m not one-hundred percent sure what would happen if we were to interfere with its rotation.”

 

Getting closer to the vortex, Stanley noticed more details about the wormpool. In the middle of the swirling water was a small hole that seemed to reflect the sky above. But, he knew that the sky reflected wasn’t the one that they were under at this moment. The opening was probably big enough to put a finger or two in, but he wasn’t sure anything else would. He wondered what would happen if you tried to shove something too big inside of it. 

 

Ford whooped and danced slightly in his spot.He pulled a soggy journal out of his vest and a capped ballpoint pen, trying to take notes on the wet paper. Stanley overheard him muttering about the smudging pen and sighed to himself, sitting back down on his seat.

 

Now that the existential crisis and his own frustration was out of the way, all of the adrenaline was drained out of him. Stanley’s joints were stiff and he felt like dying at the thought of having to stand back up. He didn’t know how Ford was even on his feet right now after all that.

 

Every time Stan blinked he felt his eyelids getting haevier. A nap couldn’t hurt, would it? After all, he had been rowing for who knows how long. He would need his rest for when he would have to row the two of them back.

 

Giving into temptations, Stan let his eyes blink shut.

 

♦

 

**_The first thing Stan registered was how hot it was. Next, how he was cramped. Then, the pain hit him full force._ **

 

**_Stanley groaned as he took the finally steps to consciousness, opening his eyes to find himself curled up in a small, black… room? No, this was_ way _too small to be a room._**

 

**_The memories flooded back. Rico. His debt. How Rico’s lackeys had grabbed him from behin_ ** **_d and knocked him out._ **

 

**_All black after that._ **

 

**_His head pounded, his mouth was dry, and he could hardly move. Stan tried to worm around, but every time he tried, sharp pain exploded in his shoulder. The joint was obviously either dislocated or a bone had fractured. Or, worse and more expensive, it had broken all the way._ **

 

**_Stan’s ankles and wrists were tied together behind his back making him feel like a fish stuck in a net. He felt so vulnerable with his bulging stomach and chest exposed like they were now. The cramped space he was in did nothing to soothe his anxiety. Not to mention the heat only got worse as the seconds passed._ **

 

**_Twisting his head every which way, he finally saw a small hole shining a light. Doing his best to wiggle his way closer to it without hurting his shoulder, he did his best to prop himself up on his elbow and look out of the gap._ **

 

**_The bright sun outside burned his eyes, but at least he could get a general idea of where he was. He was awkwardly close to the ground. So close that if he were to shove his foot through the floor, he wouldn’t be able to get half his leg out before it touched the ground. Speaking of the ground, it didn’t have a single plant present. It was just endless dirt for miles._ **

 

**_Stan took a deep sniff of the air and his suspicions were confirmed. The whole “room” smelt of gas._ **

 

**_Rico had locked him in the back of a car of all things and left him in the middle of the desert to die. No one would remember his name and he’d just be another nameless corpse when the police found his body. If they ever did find him that is._ **

 

**_His eyes stung and he blinked rapidly. This is no time to cry, though. Not when he was stuck in the desert with no way to get out._ **

 

**_Survival instincts and adrenaline kicked into his system. Stanley struggled with all of his strength against his restraints, the pain in his shoulder nothing but a dull pain at that point. Whoever had tied these knots knew what they were doing. Even after he’d managed to break the rope and free his legs, there were still metal handcuffs chaining his hands together._ **

 

**_The sharp metal dug into his wrists. Giving up on them for now, Stanley used his legs to try and kick to trunk open, but to no avail. The trunk was getting stuffier as time passed, making it harder to breath. The amount of sweat he had was worrisome. There was no doubt that all of this movement was making him extremely dehydrated._ **

 

**_He couldn’t die here. He wouldn’t. Not before he redeemed himself back into his family and… and…_ **

 

**_His panicked struggles got weaker and weaker until he was too tired to move at all. A few involuntary tears managed to slip out of his eyes despite his need to keep the water in his system._ **

 

**_Like Ford would ever forgive him for what he did. Hell, he still hasn’t forgive himself. He felt ashamed for even thinking of his brother’s name. Just the image of him in his head made Stan feel sick from guilt. He regretted not letting his brother make his own decisions. Instead of running off and destroying his science project._ **

 

**_It was an accident, though. One that shouldn’t have happened in the first place._ **

 

**_But how can you apologize to someone if your corpse is stuck out in the middle of the desert?_ **

 

**_Stan opened his eyes, his sight blurry from his tears. He roll over and stop here. Pines never gave up, especially not him. And even if it was shameful to count himself as a part of their family, he would do his best to have them forgive him or die trying._ **

 

**_He couldn’t even start to work his way back if he was all the way out here._ **

 

**_Pushing himself to the very back of the trunk with his heels, he felt the rubber covered wires in the very corner of the trunk._ **

 

**_If there were any gods above, they’d help him here and now._ **

 

**_Praying these wires would give him his desired result and not take his sacrifice for nothing, Stanley bit down hard on the wires and twisted his head sharply to the left, trying to cut them with his teeth._ **

 

**_An electric spark burnt his lip, but the wires were not even cut all the way through. He’d only poked a small hole in the thick rubber casing. Stanley bit down and this time, he kept his head still and tried to chew down on the wires like a staving rat._ **

 

**_God, it hurt. It wasn’t long until he tasted something coppery in his mouth. He couldn’t decide whether it was from the wires or blood until he was choking on the pooling liquid. He quickly spit the thick blood out of his mouth and coughed until he could barely breath. Stan sucked in a deep breath and leaned down to resume._ **

 

**_He couldn’t tell how long it had been since he had woken up. His sense of time was long lost at this point without any light to tell him. Stan could have been chewing on these wires for days or minutes and he would not have been able to tell the difference._ **

 

**_His mouth was destroyed, gums torn to shreds and teeth completely red with his blood. He couldn't feel or move his tongue or maybe he could move it and just couldn't tell. Everything hurt. Stanley was completely drenched in sweat and the heat was sucking away the little water he had left. He kept choking on the blood that tried to go down his throat, constantly having to spit it out every minute._ **

 

**_Chewing the wires hadn’t done a damn thing. Stan banged his head against the floor, dry sobbing loudly. He didn’t have enough moisture left in him to cry. Stanley was too tired to spit out the blood anymore, choosing to let it spill out of the side of his mouth instead._ **

 

**_In a last ditch effort, Stan weakly kicked the trunk with the little strength he had left, knowing that it was pointless. He’d fought and already went down._ **

 

**_But, against all odds, after ramming both feet forward, there was a click before the truck popped open._ **

 

♦

 

_Stan opened his eyes to an eerily familiar black and white version of the Mystery Shack. It was obviously familiar to him because it was the Mystery Shack, but even the differences between the two houses didn’t confuse him like he felt they should have._

 

_Stepping down a set of staircases with a strange sort of practiced ease, he reached the end of the stairs. Letting go of the railing, he took a single step down the hallway before freezing in his spot, unable to move._

 

_“_ **Well it’s about time you showed up! I’ve been trying to pull you back in here for weeks but your dumb pigeon brain kept refusing! Stanley Pines, Pines, Pines, stubborn in more ways than one.** _”_

 

_Stan felt a force spin him around 180 to see a glowing yellow triangle blocking the staircase he just came down from._

 

_"_ **So, Fez. How’s life been? You keep my deal in mind, or did you rudely forget about it like I know you did?** _” Bill said, looking down at him with mock hurt._

 

_A floodgate of memories rushed into Stan’s mind, playing for him as if he were watching an old slide show. The blurry door. The static. Bill’s deal. Waking up._

 

_“I haven’t changed my mind, Bill,” Stanley yelled, ignoring his own burning curiosity. “I’m not falling for any of your tricks this time. Not even curiosity will make me say differently, demon.”_

 

_Bill glared at Stan, his pupil shrinking with anger._

 

_"_ **You know, Stan…** _”_

 

_The demon snatched Stan up in his hand, pulling him in closed to his eye. His eye turned a deep blood red, pupil as whiter than fresh snow. The two colors painted a gruesome picture in Stanley’s head._

_“_ **Y O U  N E E D  T O  W O R K  O N  Y O U R  L Y I N G  S K I L L S.** _”_

 

_A shiver ran up Stan’s back, dread dropped in his stomach._

 

_“_ **I mean, you used to be such a great conman! Almost as good as myself,** _” Bill tweaked his bowtie smugly. “_ **Being cooped up in that boat must be making you loose your expertise.** _”_

 

_“_ **And don’t talk about yourself all high and mighty like that, Fez. All humans give into curiosity at some point. You own family has done the same already! Just look at Pine Tree and Sixer!** _” Bill sighed, dropping Stan to the ground with a thud. “_ **Point is, don’t you want to find out about your past, Fez? It’s obvious that your brother has told you hardly anything at all and it has already been a year!”**

 

_Stan tried to look away, muttering something about he could remember things on his own, but Bill pinched his head with two fingers and jerked his head up to make eyes contact.._

 

_“_ **I can help you, Stan. Just one small handshake and I’ll help you regain your memories. Least I could do for you, pal,** _” Bill said_

 

_Stan pulled his head out of Bill’s grasp. “Oh yeah? Well I’m not falling for it. You haven’t even said what you want out of the deal.”_

 

_Bill let go of Stan’s head, narrowing his eye. “_ **You want to know what I want out of this, Stan?** _”_

 

_The way Bill spoke made Stan shudder. Now he was second guessing if he wanted to know. It’s not like he’d take the deal anyway. Yeah, there was no way he would ever shake Bill’s hand._

 

_“_ **I want my freedom back,** _” Bill said simply, ignoring Stan’s lack of answer._

 

_Stan crossed his arms and shook his head. “Nuh, uh. No way in hell you’re ever getting that back. You’re just going to have to sit back and relax, pal, because you’re never getting back to our dimension.”_

 

_He pinched his brow in frustration. “_ **Fez, you don’t understand. My henchminions are gone, I have almost zero power left and I’m stuck in your stupid, dusty mindscape,** _” Bill crossed his arms and legs unhappily, pouting like a child. “_ **And don’t even get me started on how long it took me to do simply that.** _”_

 

_Stanley looked at him with suspicion, not knowing where the demon was going with this speech. “What’s your point here, bucko? You’re not exactly getting yourself on my good side here if that’s what you’re aiming for.”_

 

_Bill laughed. “_ **Like I need the approval from some disgusting, mind-numbed human. No, I don’t want your universe anymore, Stanley. I’ve lost my hunger for such a pathetic place. I’m going to return back to my dimension.** _”_

 

_The triangle clenched his fi. “_ **That is if I can get out of your stupid mind!”** _Bill’s booming voice made the floating doors behind him rattle noisily, opening and shutting like a flock of startled birds. Stanley flinched._

 

_“That’s not good enough, demon,” Stan spat._

 

_Bill growled in frustration. “_ **You know what, how about I give you a free sample? No charge! Then we’ll see if you change your mind once you see the things little Fordsy avoided telling you.** _”_

 

_The triangle pressed his thumb hard on Stan’s forehead, making the man suddenly feel dizzy. He lost his balance and stumbled over his feet. Opening his eyes, Stanley found himself in another memory._

 

♦

 

**_His brother stood before him. While Stan was glad to see his brother, seeing the state of his wellbeing made him worry. His usually tidy hair was frazzled and you could see the insanity shining in his eyes._ **

 

**_It was scaring him._ **

 

**_His brother handed him a red and yellow journal, a golden hand with six fingers was on the cover, the number three written on it. Telling Stanley he was the only one he could trust with it._ **

 

**_“I have a favor to ask of you,” Ford said._ **

 

**_Stanley looked up from studying the journal, looking his brother in straight in the eyes. They looked so cold and distant now compared to when they were kids… The way they would light up when something good happened or he got a new book. Now they were just… cold and tired. Bags hanging heavy underneath. Stan felt his brows furrow in concern for his brother._ **

 

**_Even if he was kicked out and rejected, nothing could stop him from loving his family._ **

 

**_“Remember our plans to sail around the world in a boat?”_ **

 

**_Stan’s eyebrows raised in surprise before he smiled in disbelief. Was this really happening? Was his brother really ready to sail around the world with him? Was he finally being forgiven?_ **

 

**_He opened his mouth before Ford cut him off._ **

 

**_“Take the journal, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can!” Ford yelled, turning away from his brother and breaking the eye contacts._ **

 

**_Stanley’s smile dropped, his mouth dry and eyes wide._ **

 

**_A hot fury filled his chest, fists burning to hit something. To make something feel the same pain as he did in that moment._ **

 

**_He yelled. Stan’s mind barely registered what he was saying as they flew out of his mouth. His brother didn’t look happy with his words, but the savage look in his eyes almost made Stan freeze as he lifted his lighter to the journal, saying something about it being his so he can do what he wanted._ **

 

**_Stanley was not prepared for his brother to tackle him to the ground, wrestling him for the book. Stan remembered the days when the two of them used to be on a wrestling team in middle and high school. Their fights were never as rough as this, always making sure not to injure each other too much._ **

 

**_The look in Ford’s face told him he would kill to protect his research._ **

 

**_The fight continued, two of them managing to get to their feet only to either be tackled or tripped. Both of them had their hands glued to the book, crashing through the door and into the control room._ **

 

**_Ford threw them into a control panel, a red light flashing and alarm blaring. The sounds and lights made Stan’s head hurt, but the burning anger kept him going._ **

 

**_Shoving his brother away, winning back the book, Ford clutched his precious journal to his chest. Stan tried to grab onto the others trench coat, but missed, slamming into the side of Ford’s machinery._ **

 

**_There was a burning sensation on his shoulder. He could feel the skin peeling off as the metal branded the back of his shoulder. He heard a scream before quickly realizing it was his own._ **

 

**_Head pounding and body aching, he quickly stood back up to give Ford a strong right hook across the jaw, sending him back into the room with the portal._ **

 

**_While Stan wasn’t focusing on the portal, it was spinning rapidly, sucking in everything that crossed the black and yellow tape. The alarm still blaring in the back, colors red and blue mixing._ **

 

**_Ford backed away from his brother, a bruise already forming on his face. Stan gave his brother a push, sending him past the safety line._ **

 

**_His brother slowly getting further out of his reach._ **

 

**_Stan’s anger quickly replaced with fear._ **

 

**_“Stanley, Stanley! Do something!”_ **

 

**_The journal was thrown to him._ **

 

**_"Oh no, what do I do?!”_ **

 

**_Stanley watched helplessly as his brother was sucked into the portal, the journal the two of them had been fighting about held tightly in his hands._ **

 

**_With a bright, blinding blue flash, his brother was gone. Stanley flew back a couple of feet from the blast, landing on his side._ **

 

**_“No… no, no, NO!”_ **

 

**_The previously brightly lit machine powered down with a loud whine. Stan ran past the safety tape and threw himself at the machine, banging his fists against it._ **

 

**_“Please, please! I can’t lose him, not again!”_ **

 

**_But no matter how many times the sharp sound of skin against metal rang, the machine stayed still. All of his apologies and screams for forgiveness would never reach his brother’s ears._ **

 

♦

 

Stanley shot open his eyes, his arms propping him up on his behind. He could feel the wetness on his cheeks and the sting of his eyes.

 

Why hadn’t Ford told him?

 

His sadness and fear was replaced with rage.

 

No, how dare he not tell him? What else did Stanley not know? How could he, his own brother, have led him on like that? Did Ford not want him to have his memories? Was he thinking Stan shouldn’t know what he did? That he couldn’t handle it?

 

Stan pushed himself up onto his feet, using the wall as support. His knees were shaking from his shock and it ached to stand. Looking up, he saw Bill waiting patiently, twirling his cane and looking at a small stop watch.

 

“So, what do you say, Fez?” The watch disappeared with a wisp of blue. “Ready to strike a good deal?”

 

Bill stuck out his hand, waiting expectantly. Stanley debated hard with himself. So many things could go wrong, but… He was tired of Ford keeping memories that were his away from him. 

 

Hesitating for just a second, Stanley took Bill’s hand and watched the blue flames erupt between their palms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuking bill you piece of shit
> 
> Not gonna lie, it was fun writing the trunk scene.


	4. Chaptwah 4

Stan woke up with a jerk, automatically being blinded by the sun setting in the distance. He sat up with a groan, resting against the side of the boat and yawning. He saw Ford rowing that boat by himself, sweating buckets.

Where was he again? Oh yeah, he’d gone with Ford to find some anomaly. What was it again? A wormpool?

His deal with Bill surfaced to his head. The cyan blue flames still danced behind his eyelids whenever he blinked. Stanley felt as if an entire bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head as guilt, dread and regret weighed down his body. He rubbed his temples, groaning again into his hand.

The sound alerted his brother, who turned around with an unknowing smile tugging the corners of his lips up. Any remnants of anger towards him were quenched as Ford looked at him with those wide eyes. The ones that were just as bright as when he was a kid. It was so different from the crazed look he had when they fought over the journal in his memory.

“Ah, good morning, ‘Lee! Or, I guess now I should say ‘good afternoon,’ but I think I got my point across,” Ford laughed at his own joke. The excitement of finding that anomaly was obviously still in his system. “Sorry for not waking you up sooner, but I’d finished taking my notes and didn’t want to wake you up. You looked tired after navigating us through that storm, so I thought you deserved some good rest.”

With every word Ford said, guilt burrowed its way deeper in Stanley’s chest. Then again, this was the guy keeping his own past away from him. 

His mind was confused. He cared and loved his brother, but he was still angry at him. What should he do? He can’t just blurt out that Bill told him everything.

“You can go back to sleep now if you want. We aren’t too far from the boat and I bet I can get us there in no time flat.” Ford tried to prove his point by striking the paddles through the water, but all that happened was the boat turned slightly to the left.

Stanley forces a laugh, patting his brother on the shoulder harder than necessary. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Sixer. I got it from here.”

He switched spots with Ford, the other seemingly grateful to get some rest from rowing. While his brother was infinitely stronger than any old man their ages, rowing was never one of his strong points. That’s why Stanley always got stuck with the task. Not like he cared since he couldn’t read a map to save himself.

It worked itself out in the end. The two of them worked really well together.

The guilt strengthened.

Taking the paddles, he pulled them toward his chest forcefully, launching them forward with a small jerk. It took them only a second before they were gliding across the waters, the Stan O’ War not far off in the distance.

Stanley had hoped that the rowing would distract him from having to dwell on his thoughts, but it was not as he had hoped.

He just made a deal with _Bill_. The demon that had once tried to take over and destroy the Earth for god sakes. What was he thinking?

His brother was keeping secrets from him. Not just anything, but their past together. He was trying to hide away from the things he’d done. No matter what things his brother may or may not have done in the past, these memories were his.

Stanley shook his head. No, his brother was just trying to let him regain them on his own. Surely if he asked, then Ford would gladly try to help.

Yeah… Yes, yes he would. Definitely. Of course.

The longer Stan rowed, the closer the Stan O’ War looked. He couldn’t wait until he was out of this stupid, small boat. Just thinking of watching the sunset with a mug of hot chocolate made him relax and shoulders loosen. The faster he went, the sooner he could.

It wasn’t long until the small boat bumped again the Stan O’ War’s side, startling Ford out of his nap, his snoring finally cut off. Stan quickly climbed onto the bigger boat, walking around the deck to get his legs used to moving. Ford was a little slower, taking the time to yawn and stretch.

Bending over quickly to grab Ford and the boat, he pulled them closer so his twin could climb out. While Ford tied the boat up to keep it from drifting away, Stan sat down seats with a huff and a sigh.

It was good to be back. Now he just wished the weight in his stomach would leave.

Just ask your brother for help, Stan. It can’t be hard, right?

♦

The small kitchen was filled with the scent of pancakes, making Stanley’s mouth water profusely. The lunches that Ford had packed were thrown out in the water during the storm, so now both of them were starving for a bite to eat.

Stan and Ford had just finished watching the sunset just a few minutes ago before Stan complained how he was hungry. Ford told him to wait for the stars, but Stanley reasoned that cooking him food would help pass the time. Reluctantly, the older twin stood to go cook Stan some food since the younger could not cook to save himself. The only things he could make decently was the cheap macaroni you cooked in the microwave. He just got lucky those could be made out in the ocean.

Stanley’s stomach rumbled, begging for food. Just a couple more minutes and he could have some of Ford’s good, fluffy pancakes. Even if they were made from the cheap powder where you just add water. Still, who didn’t enjoy having breakfast for dinner?

Ford put the pan in the sink with a loud clatter, the cold water from the faucet hit the pan with a loud sizzle as the water evaporated into steam. He turned around and presented a giant stack of pancakes on a plate and set it in the middle of the table. Stanley automatically attacked it with his fork, piling some on a plate of his own. After drizzling syrup and butter on top, Stan took a huge bite and moaned at the taste. **(Kinky shit m8)**

“Good as always, Sixer,” Stan complimented before taking another bite.

His brother thanked the other, taking normal-sized bites out of his own food. He wasn’t as hungry as his brother seeing as he usually went a full day without eating or drinking because of research. It wasn’t exactly healthy and he tried not to do it often, but he knew he could always count on Stanley to help him with his minor eating disorders.

“Hey, Ford? Does your beef jerky offer still stand?” Stan asked with an empty plate.

Ford rolled his eyes, pushing his chair back to grab a bag of jerky from in the cabinets. “Huh, that’s weird. They aren’t in here. Hold on, I might’ve left them in my room or something. Definitely not hiding it from you or anything.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Er, I’ll be back in a second.

Stan heard his brother run down the stairs, leaving him alone inside the kitchen. He locked his fingers together and stretched them over his head with a pop from his back.

“Okay, Stan. You can do this. Just ask your brother for help. It’s not that hard. Oh god, should I tell him about Bill? Would he be angry or would he understand?” Stan thought to himself, hands fidgeting with the tablecloth nervously.

Stanley’s head snapped up when Ford closed the door behind him with a louder than necessary bang. “Whoops, sorry about that, Lee. I forget how easily these doors close. They’re really light… Might have to change that in case if we get stuck in a storm.”

Ford tossed a bag of jerky to his brother, the younger catching it, thanking the other quickly before tearing open the bag. He grabbed a strip and tore his teeth in it, but his nerves made his stomach too sick to eat more.

Putting his plate in the sink and zipping up the bag, Stan leaned up against the door, patiently waiting for his brother to finish his dinner. Although, it might not look like that to the Ford with Stanley tapping his foot against the floor as nervously as he was.

After what seemed like an eternity and a half, Ford stood to put his dish away with Stan’s. He walked through the doorway, stopping for a moment to put a six-fingered hand on Stan’s shoulder.

“Well, let’s go look at those stars, shall we?” He patted Stan twice before walking past him to the deck.

Stan hesitated to walk after him. Knots were twisting in his stomach and his dinner threatened to come back up if he kept it up. He was in no way prepared for this, but he needed to act fast before Bill could do anything. Oh, he hadn’t thought if Bill would actually know if he was trying to break the deal.

Taking a long, deep breath, he stepped out and onto the deck to face Ford with his dilemma.

His brother, of course, was already sitting down, head tilted and legs crossed. The waning moon reflected off his glasses. Stan heard the water lapping at the sides of the boat gently, a breeze tousled his hair gently.

Each step Stan took towards his brother seemed to echo loudly off of the wooden floorboards, no matter how soft he made his steps. He gulped, sitting down next to Ford awkwardly, hands pressed to his thighs. He tried to focus on the moon and stars, but he kept getting distracted with the questions he knew he must ask soon.  

The two sat in a semi-peaceful quiet. Ford hummed a familiar tune, tapping his fingers rhythmically to his song. Stan sat silently.

During this silence, Stan was screaming at himself to just open his mouth and talk. He is his brother, for godsakes! Just ask him to help you get your memories back and he will don’t worry. Stan probably just jumped to conclusions when he thought Ford wasn’t helping on purpose. That was silly, it was only because he hadn’t asked! Now is your chance to ask, Stan. Hurry before you miss it! 

But before Stan mustered the courage to even look at his brother, he heard him sigh heavily.

Pulling his head down, Stan was able to look his brother in the eyes. Good! Progress, Stan. Now, ask. 

“Stanley, I know that this conversation is long overdue,” Ford said before Stan could even open his mouth. “I’ve noticed your sleeping patterns, obviously. Then there are the nightmares you have every night or so-“

Wait a minute, nightmares? Stan didn’t remember having those…

        “- And not to mention you have been acting strange ever since we came back from the rowboat! Now, what I’m saying is… Are you all right, Stanley? Is there something that you need to tell me?”

Stan looks down at his feet and Ford bit the inside of his cheek nervously, a pregnant pause replacing the calm one from before. Stan pinched the end of his nose before sitting up straighter, taking a deep breath and letting it blow out slowly.

“Ford, do you not want me to remember what happened in my past?”

Though Stan can’t see it, his brother visibly tensed, fiddling with his hands nervously. “Well, Stanley, um,” Ford clears his throat. “You see, some things are simply better to leave in the past. ”

Stan is frozen. He feels his stomach drop with anxiety and his breath pace quicken. He feels so naked and exposed. Bill has him all to himself, Stan has nothing to protect him. He feels the angry flare-up within his chest, his fingernails digging into the palms of his fists. He slams his feet on the floor, standing up to face his brother.

“How could you say that?” Stanley yells. The waves seem to silence, the quiet now eerie instead of peaceful.

Ford fights the urge to flinch away from his brother’s yelling. It had been so long since they had fought. The ones from before all brought back awful memories. “Because, Stanley, not all memories are good. You might regret getting them back.”

“So what if they aren’t good?!” Stan retorts, vaguely feeling his eyes sting. “They’re still my memories, Ford! They’re what makes Stan Pines, Stan Pines. Right now, I’m basically an empty shell of him. I don’t have any idea who I was! Who I am!”

Stan’s hands fly up to his head, pulling his long hair in frustration. “I want to remember my past, Stanford! Please, just help me. Help me remember, Ford, I’m sick and tired of being left in the dark. Don’t leave me to do it all by myself.”

Ford sighed deeply, his hands coming together in his lap and standing up slowly. “I said what I said, Stanley. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with this. Not everything needs to be remembered.”

Stan’s stomach drops further. He’s sucking air in through his teeth, trying to keep his tears at bay. He hoped Ford couldn't see his weakness in the dark. God, he could feel his body shaking from anger and fear.

“Fine then,” Stan spat. He turned around, stomping down the stairs loudly without a second glance back at Ford.

♦

Down in his bedroom, Stan was pacing back and forth throughout the whole night, clutching his head and groaning in frustration. He was doomed, wasn’t he? Bill was going to tear his mind apart and escape back into reality and there was nothing he could do anymore.

Ford was his last hope, dammit! Now he was left to face Bill all by himself. Stan had thought if his brother would help him with his memories then maybe, just maybe, Bill’s deal would strike out. After all, the demon could not finish the deal if someone else had already helped him.

Or at least that’s what he’d thought. Not like it mattered anymore since his brother had refused to help him.

A dull pounding in his skull made Stan hiss. Damn, another migraine.

Stan’s mattress dipped as he sat down, the springs audibly creaking beneath his weight.

“God, I trusted him,” Stan whispered, quickly wiping away a runaway tear. No, he had to be stronger than this. He just… He just had to find a loophole in Bill’s deal. No, his first plan had already failed.

Maybe just do what Bill says?

No, he would fight against that triangle till the day he died. Not saying much considering how old he was though.

He would… He’d figure something out.

Stan cursed Bill for taking advantage of him after seeing such an emotional and overwhelming memory. He remembered the anger, loneliness and sadness that was brewing inside of him, losing all sense of reason not to take the demon’s hand.

During that moment, Stan had forgotten everything that he already had in the present. Yes, his brother did crush his hopes, but he was with him now. They were sailing the Stan O’ War II.

Maybe Ford was right. He should just focus on the present instead of dwelling in the past.

Stan shook the thought out of his head. No, he had to remember. How could he even consider himself to be Stanley Pines if he didn’t have a past?

The pounding in Stan’s head increased, making his vision swim and the world tilt. Maybe it was time for him to go to bed.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, the supposed ‘shell’ of Stanley Pines fell asleep.

♦

**_Stanley walked through the muddy sand of the playground, trying to keep his new glasses from getting rain on them by tilting his head forward. He was failing miserably, but at least he tried to keep them safe._ **

**_“Hey, Freak!” a kid behind him yelled._ **

**_Turning to see who’d yelled, he was met with a rubber kickball being thrown at him,  making a loud smack as it made contact with his wet face. His glasses were knocked crooked, forcing him to adjust them to see who had hit him_ **

**_Once he could see again, he saw three big middle schoolers towering over him, laughing at pointing at his cowering frame._ **

**_“Whelp, it wasn’t the six-fingered freak, but close enough.”_ **

**_“Ha! The only difference is that this one’s dumber!” The three of them high-fived one another while cackling._ **

**_Stan gripped tight around the straps of his backpack, fighting the urge to cry, but could keep them at bay for long. Before the kids could hurt him anymore, Stanley ran away quickly, covering his face the best he could._ **

**_He wished his older twin brother was with him. He had to work on a project at his lab partner’s house though, so Stan was by himself on the walk home today. He never liked being apart from his brother for very long, but Ford promised that Stan would be fine._ **

**_“Dirty liar,” Stan sobbed to himself._ **

**_Unable to see where he was going through the rain and tears, Stan slipped on the mud. He sprawled across the ground, not having enough time to brace himself with his hands. His face scraped against the pavement and he felt his hands and arms burn with pain._ **

**_Afraid the kids might be chasing him, Stanley quickly scrambled to his feet, stumbling over his untied shoelaces._ **

**_Running the rest of the way home, he threw himself through the door and into the Pines Pawns door. Stan gasped for breath, throat dry but body soaked to the bone. He was shivering violently in his spot, unable to stop himself._ **

**_Meanwhile, his mother slammed the phone down on the receiver, muttering her usual “I predicted that” before noticing Stanley, still trembling from the cold. She gasped at the sight of him, rushing over to her youngest son and grabbed his shoulders firmly._ **

**_“Stanley, oh my baby, who did this to you?”_ **

**_Oh gosh, did he really look that bad? “W-What d-do you mean?” he chattered through his teeth._ **

**_Stan’s mother bit her lip, some of the thickly coated lipstick staining her front teeth. Holding her son’s hand, she led him towards and old fashioned mirror fastened against the wall so he could see what he looked like._ **

**_Stanley’s eyes widened at his appearance. He knew the ball had hurt when it had hit him, but he didn’t think it was that bad. Then again, smacking his face on the pavement wouldn’t help him much either._ **

**_He reached up to brush against his slightly crooked nose and wincing. Bruises were already forming on his forehead and the bridge of his nose. There was an angry red scratch on Stan’s cheek from when he’d fallen, along with more on his arms, knees, and elbows. Earlier when he’d been in the rain, the cold had numbed his injuries. But now that he was warming up inside, he could feel the sting from each of them clearly._ **

**_“Stanley,” his mom started. “Who did this to you? Tell me right now.” She gave Stanley a slight shake, her bangles rattling together like a weird wind chime. He grip tightens on her son’s shoulders, long fingernails unintentionally digging into his skin. She turned Stan away from the mirror and towards her, a look in her eyes swearing him to tell the truth._ **

**_Stan’s reply was nothing but a sob. He tried to cover his face with his hands again, but they were ripped away by his mom, concern written on her face._ **

**_“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay…” he repeated. His eyes stung again._ **

**_Momma Pines sighed, pulling her youngest twin close to her chest. Stan sobbed into his mother’s shoulder, accepting the rare moment of affection gratefully. He tries to enjoy it while he can, but it’s hard when all you want is your brother._ **

**_She smelt like cinnamon and cigarette smoke. He wrapped his arms around her torso, inhaling the scent deeply so he would always remember that his mother would be there for him._ **

♦

Stanley woke up slowly, remembering his dream vividly. That was a memory he already remembered though… What was Bill playing at? Or maybe his subconscious missed when he had his mother to hold him when times were tough.

Stan sat up, throwing his legs over the side of his bed. There was no way he could go back to bed after that. He eyed the nightstand next to him, contemplating if he should and risk getting in more trouble with Ford.

Standing up with a huff and at least five pops in his back, he reached into the drawer and pulled out a box of cigars and matches.

Yes, he’d beaten his addiction to tobacco before Mabel and Dipper had come to visit last summer, but sometimes when no one was around, he liked to light one. Usually, he only did so when he was in stressful situations such as now.

Peeking out to make sure his brother was not out on the deck anymore, Stan crept outside. He leaned against the railing, striking a match and lighting his cigar before dropping the small stick into the water. He typically cared more for the ocean, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so right now.

He took a long, deep drag before blowing out all at once, the smoke coming through his nose and mouth. As if almost automatically, the tension in his shoulders relaxed. He missed his mother now more than ever.

With each puff, he longed more and more for his mother. While she most likely couldn’t help him out of his situation with Bill and Ford, her parental support would help wonders right now. Just one hug from her and he were sure his mind would clear enough to trick Bill out of the deal.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen her due to his locked up memories. At the thought of that, he took another drag, almost choking from the smoke and repressed sobs.

Stan thought back to his memory. The concern in his mother’s eye, her shock as he came through the door, the feeling of her warmth and safety wrapped around a smaller version of himself.

Despite telling himself not to let any tears fall as to not show any weakness, he felt a tear run down his cheek before plopping into the salty ocean water below.

Stanley Pines, or what was left of him, felt like he was falling apart. His memories, however, built themselves up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and kudos are always appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford ditches Stan.  
> Bill pops up in an unexpected way.  
> A quick chat with Dipper and Mabel.  
> Memories are uncovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so...
> 
> It has been a while and I don't have an excuse. I have had 11 chapters prewritten for this fic forever, just never posted them.
> 
> More at the bottom.
> 
> Warnings for torture, burning, and homophobic slurs.

It was a calm day outside, just like it always was in the Doldrums. The water lapped against the sides of the boat like always, the boat rocking gently like always, the sun shining through the white, fluffy clouds.

 

Just like always.

 

Stanley’s mood, however, was nowhere near like the peacefulness outside. No, it was as dark and stormy as the rain from yesterday.

 

When he’d woken up this morning, not remembering how he’d gotten back into his bed, he’d felt fine, ready to take on the day. It was when he couldn’t find Ford is when he remembered their conversation from yesterday, rage once again boiling in his gut.

 

He looked everywhere for Ford. The kitchen, his room, his study room, everywhere. It was only when he was walking along the deck when he noticed that the rowboat was missing, a sticky note stuck to the railing with his name on it.

 

Stanley,

 

I’ve taken the boat out to the rift. I’ll be back late in the afternoon, so there is no need to worry about me. I’m just taking a few more notes before we leave for the United States again.

 \- Ford

 

Stan crumpled up the message, throwing it overboard, feeling guilty for throwing in the water right after. Ford had left him behind for a reason. He still was mad over the argument from last night, just like Stan was.

 

 "Good riddance,” Stan muttered, trying to fish the paper out of the ocean before it sank down for something to mistake the brightly colored paper as food. He would kill for a punching bag at that moment.

 

After getting the sticky note out of the water, he threw it away in the kitchen. He opened up a cabinet and grabbed some of the cereal, eating it dry. He slammed the door shut and sat down with a huff. He grabbed a big handful and crammed it in his mouth, chewing aggressively.

 

After almost choking from swallowing too much for the second time, Stan calmed down. No need to put on a show when there’s no one to put a show on for.

 

Once he’d finished his admittedly pathetic breakfast (Ford had hidden the jerky. Maybe as punishment?), Stan waited back out to the deck, tilting his face up to bask in the warm sun. Might as well take some time to cool down and while for his brother to come back. He’d sort it out with him again later. He did an awful job of asking for help last night. Maybe he could try over again once Ford got back.

 

God, another headache started. Stan sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Nothing could go right, could it? Not to mention that this headache was somehow worse than most of his other ones. Ah, who was he kidding, they were all totally awful to deal with.

 

A dull pain, like a literal tiny hammer, thunked against the side of Stan’s skull, causing the old man to hunch over and lightly gasp in pain. The sensation didn’t last long, but the result was automatic.

 

“ **Finally! Can’t tell you how long it took me to get that right!** ”

 

Stan flew up to his feet, jerking his head in every direction to find the source of the voice. His fighting instincts kicked in, leaving him panicked, not knowing how to confront him. “Bill! Where are you?” he shouted.

 

“ **Relax, meat-sack! I didn’t escape your head, if that’s what you’re thinking,** ” Bill laughed loudly, resounding in Stan’s skull. “ **Of course that’s what you’re thinking! I can hear all your thoughts in here!** ”

 

“Wait, in where? Where are you right now?”

 

“ **I’m still stuck in your mindscape, but I figured out a way to project my words into your consciousness. Now you can hear me all the time! Nifty, huh?** ”

 

“No, it’s not!” Stan yelled, not even knowing where to look to address the demon. He finally decided to point his eyes up when addressing the demon. “I kno w we made a deal, but it didn’t involve this, Bill!”

 

Stan could almost feel Bill roll his eye. “ **Of** **course this relates to the deal, Stan. This way I can warn you if I unlock a memory and it goes haywire and knocks you out. Trust me, it wouldn’t be fun if it happened. There’d be no warning and you’d probably fall into a pit or something.** ” The demon snickered. “ **Actually, that’d be pretty funny. Especially if you were to drown in the ocean because of it!** ”

Stan glared at thin air. “Then just don’t unlock anything and we’ll be _ fine _ .”

 

Bill tsked. “ **Doesn’t work like that, old man. The deal was to help you get the memories back, not to create a specific schedule when to give them back.** ”

 

“Dammit,” Stan growled, gritting his teeth together.

 

Bill just snickered. “ **You’re just stuck with me then!~ That i** **s, most of the time.** ”

 

Stan perked up. “Go on.”

 

“ **Well, I can’t always project myself here. Unfortunately…** ” Bill said, muttering the latter part to himself. “ **So when I’m busy digging in your pathetic excuse for a mindscape, I can’t communicate with you unless I really screw something up and need to warn you about said screw up.** ” Bill cleared his throat (?). “ **Which I do not do often, thank you very much. As a businessman, there is little room for error. I’ll try to at least give you memories only when you're asleep. No promises, though** ”

 

“At least I won’t have to listen to your annoying voice for the rest of my life, at least.”

 

“ **Watch it, Stanley. I can make you live your worst nightmare in a second if I need to. In fact, would you like a memory right now?** ”

 

Stanley glared at the thin air in front of him. “Don’t you fucking dare, Cipher.”

 

Bill tsked. “ **Watch your language there, mister! Whelp, memory it is then!** ”

 

“Bill! I swear to Go-“ But Stanley couldn't finish his sentence before he was s lumped over his seat, dead asleep.

 

♦

 

**_Stan woke up from his fitful sleep with a gasp, his teeth chattering wildly and his entire body shaking out of control. Gods, it was so, so cold. He was pretty sure that he had long lost the feeling in his toes and fingers by now._ **

 

**_He reached up to brush away his long hair out of his face with a numb hand. It was the middle of January and he had gone down to the mountains of Colorado for what had seemed like his lucky break. But, he had the best timing to get stuck in a snowstorm on his way there. And there was no way he was going to try and drive in this weather._ **

 

**_Yeah, the deal was good, but no way in hell was he going to have his car slide all over the road and crash. Then he would just be worse off than he was right now._ **

 

**_As soon as the radio had gone haywire with road warnings, he pulled over to the side of the road to spend the night there instead. The temperature dropped quickly, forcing Stan to grab every single article of clothing he had inside of the dirty car._ **

 

**_Man, he really regretted not getting his heater fixed sooner. Though, it’s not like he had the money to do so._ **

 

**_Soon, night had fallen and Stan tried desperately to fall asleep. But the drafts kept blowing through the car, chilling him awake with a panicked gasp every time._ **

 

**_Stan watched his breath fog in the air, calming himself down. No, it’s not another nightmare. Just the cold outside._ **

 

**_He peeked out the window, seeing the snow piled up just below his window._ **

 

**_Might as well be a nightmare. Stan curled into a ball, pulling his knees to his chest. Now he missed the warm desert heat that he was in just a few weeks previous. His chattering still hadn’t stopped and his shaking was concerning him. If someone were to look at him now, they would probably think he was vibrating at this point._ **

 

**_He blew on his hands, rubbed them together, stuck them under his sweat-stained shirt, but to no avail. Stan slammed his head back on the headrest before twisting his body to check again if there were any more clothes he could put on._ **

 

**_Oh thank the stars above, there was actually a blanket in here! Stan ripped it out from under all the junk in the floorboards in the back, shaking off all the dead bugs and dirt before wrapping_ **

**_himself in the disgusting cloth._ **

 

**_It smelt so bad, but his chattering wasn’t as violent anymore. Now he couldn’t even feel the drafts. Stan covered his head with the blanket, nesting his head on top of his knees._ **

 

**_His eyelids felt so heavy now. He could feel them threatening to shut and let them without a complaint._ **

 

**_When was the last time he had slept? Maybe a little under three days? Damn, he didn’t even know how he fu_ ** **_nctioned half of the time._ **

 

**_Oh well, those were thoughts for later._ **

 

**_Stan woke up hours later, confused at the untouched snow in front of him. Luckily, it hadn’t buried his car. And the snow had stopped!_ **

 

**_He tried turning on the radio again and whooped loudly when there was a signal. He changed the dial over and over until he heard people were coming to clear the snow in his area. Stan felt so grateful in that moment. He had really thought that was the end of his twenty-five years of life for a minute there._ **

 

**_Waiting not very patiently, he heard the rolling of the snow plows just a few hours later after the announcement. He fumbled for something to get their attention and smacked himself on the forehead for not seeing the obvious solution._ **

 

**_He honked as loudly and wildly as he could, very easily getting the other guy’s attention._ **

 

**_Stanley Pines lives another day. Take that, Fate!_ **

****

♦

 

Stan woke back up with a groan, wiping away the drool that had managed to slip its way out of the corner of his mouth. Ugh, and his headache still hasn't gone away yet either. Bill’s shrill voice didn’t help him at all.

 

“ **Ha ha! Ah, seeing pain never fails to give me joy.** ”

 

“Fuck you, Bill,” Stan gritted through his teeth. He shivered for a second, still feeling the cold in his bones from the memory. No, he had to stay positive about this. It’s what he asked for, suck it up Stanley.

 

He took a deep breath before straightening his back. He blew out slowly, stretching his arms above his head.

 

It was alright, he was okay. He was alive. He wasn’t stuck in a blizzard anymore. Stan was safe.

 

“ **Yeah, whatever you want to believe, Fez.** ”

 

Stan ignored Bill’s comment. His headache was still going strong, but that was no reason to be negative. He got up with a huff, walking into the kitchen to look for something.

 

“C’mon, I know we haven’t used ya in a while, but I know you’re around here somewhere…” He muttered while looking under the stove. Finally, he pulled out what he was looking for.

 

In Stan’s hands was what looked like an ancient laptop that was thicker than a dictionary. He blew off the layer of dust on the top and set it down on the table. For being neglected for over a month, it didn’t seem to be doing so bad.

 

The laptop was made by McGucket so that Stanley and Stanford would be able to contact family and friends back on land whenever they wanted or needed to. Neither of the twins questioned how the machine worked with no signal, and had no intention of ever finding out. They both chalked it up to Fiddleford’s wackiness and geniusness both wrapped into a box of wires and metal.

 

Stan pried the thing open, coughing loudly as the dust got lodged in his throat. Damn, how did this place get so dusty so fast? They needed to clean soon.

 

He typed in the password and waited for the screen to load. It had been a while since he had called the kiddos. Might as well kill some time by talking to those two. That is if they were online.

 

Stan clicked on the twin’s profile and saw that they were on. Okay, then they should be able to take a call… He pressed the green call button and sat back to wait.

 

The computer jingled as it rang, uprising a lot of complaints from Bill. “ **My Deus, why are you establishing a torture device in your click box?!** ”

 

Stan rolled his eyes. “It’s just the ringtone, you numbskull.” He ignored Bill once the screen stopped ringing, flashing ‘starting call’ brightly. It to ok a minute for the video to load, but once it did, he got a clear image of Dipper sitting in front of the computer in his bedroom.

 

“Hey, Grunkle Stan! Hold on, Mabel would probably be mad at me if I didn’t tell her you were on…” Dipper ran out of his chair and Stan heard a door opening. “Mabel! Come here!”

 

“One second! I almost got this sequin-ribbon painting finished!”

 

Dipper came back into view. “She’ll be here in a minute. So! How have you guys been?”

 

“Oh, you know, the usual. Ford’s been a pain in my rear, but we found a new anomaly yesterday. Thought you might’ve wanted to hear about it.”

 

He saw Dipper’s eyes light up with excitement. “Oh my gosh, really? What was it?”

 

Stan smiled. “I knew you’d be interested, nerd.” Dipper glared at him, but Stan only laughed at his reaction. “Well, it’s technically a wormhole-“ Dipper gasped in excitement. “- ‘Cept it’s in the middle of the ocean. So Ford dubbed it the ‘wormpool’,” Stan air quoted with his fingers. “I think it’s an awful name, but he seems to love it, so whatever.”

 

Dipper shrugged. “It’s not  _ that  _ bad.”

 

Bill decided to pipe in. “ **Not to mention it’s the wrong word. Fordsy’s lost his touch.** ”

 

Shut up, Bill. “I beg to differ, kiddo.” Stan decided to change the topic from his brother. He was sick of talking about him already. “So, what’s it your sister’s doin’?”

 

The young boy rested his chin on his arms. “Oh you know,” he rolled his eyes playfully. “Mabel-ish things. Nah, she’s just working on her art project. Apparently, this one is for their final grade or something like that.”

 

Stan shivered. “I don’t even want to know how much glitter there is in the carpet. I bet your parents aren’t too happy about it.”

 

“Actually, she’s not using any this year. Something about a change or something like that-“ Dipper was cut off as his bedroom door was slammed open.

 

“What is it, Dipper? You know not to disturb me in an art-crisis which your nerdy stuff!”

 

“Good to know I mean so much to you too, Mabel,” Stan teased.

 

There was a loud gasp and the door slamming closed. Then there wa s a muffled yell before Mabel yelled back an empty ‘sorry’. “Dipper, get outta the chair, I gotta say hi to my favorite grunkles!” She stuck out her lips in an odd pout. ‘Where’s the dorky one, though?”

 

“He ditched me back here on the boat to go study the wormpool.”

 

Mabel had a disgusted look on her face. “Ew, what the heck is a wormpool? Sounds nasty.”

 

Stan slapped his hand down on the table. “Ha! I knew it! Finally, someone agrees with me! Take that, Dipdot.”

 

Dipper made a psh sound. “That’s your own opinion.”

 

“So, Grunkle Stan,” Mabel said, pulling the conversation back on track. “How’s boat life? It’s been a while since you guys called! Made me start to worry ‘bout you two little ol’ men.”

 

The old man forced a laugh, trying to make it as convincing as possible. “Nah, you know us. We’re fine. Sure, we get into a fair amount of trouble, but that’s nothing new for our family, huh, kids?”

 

Both of them laughed. “True, true. But you have to admit, some weirdness always keeps the fun bar high!” Mabel said loudly.

 

“How’s school going for you two? Mabel, have you made up with your English teacher yet?”

 

She got a sour look on her face, nabbing a pencil off of Dipper’s desk and snapped it in half. “Never. I’ll never forgive her for taking my drawing notebook. I keep telling everyone, never mess with me in an art-crisis!”

 

“Unless if the grunkles are calling. Then you come running faster than when you drank a gallon of Mabel Juice,” Dipper piped in.

 

“Soon, you two won’t even have to come running to your computer. Remember that you’re spending the summer with me again this year?”

 

Mabel squealed with excitement. “I know, I can’t wait! I’ll finally get to see all my Gravity Falls friends again! I’ve missed them so much!”

 

Dipper nodded his head enthusiastically, grinning as he erratically clicked a pen from anticipation. “I’ll finally get to see more monsters again! No offense, but Piedmont is so boring. Nothing fun ever happens here. And the things that are  _ supposed _ to just don’t match Gravity Falls.”

 

“Psh, kid, nothing will match that town.”

 

All three of them daydreamed in silence. Nobod y could wait for summer.

 

The was another muffled yell coming from Mabel and Dipper’s side. “Hold on, Grunkle Stan,” Mabel said, hopping out of the seat. “Yeah? What is it, mom?” More muffled voices. “Okay, just a sec’!”

 

She came back. “Hey Dipdot, we are leaving to go to the grocery store, get your shoes,” she said before turning to the screen. “Sorry, Stan, but we have to go now! We’ll talk you soon, okay?”

 

“Okay, Sweetie. Dipper, be careful and keep your nose outta trouble. I’ll see you two later.”

 

“Love you, Stan!”

 

“Bye!”

 

There was  a click before the call ended. Stan sighed, leaning back in his seat. Talking to them made him relax. His thought was because he knew they were safe. Or maybe it was just being able to talk to them that gave him a smile.

 

Stan stopped what he was thinking. “Bill, you’ve been awfully quiet. What are you doing, demon?”

 

There was no response from Cipher, just the whirring of the air conditioner and splashing of waves from outside. Something was going on.

 

“Hey, Dorito, you there?” He knocked at his own skull, only vaguely aware of how insane he must’ve looked at that moment. “You angry at me for ignoring you or somethin’?

 

Stan was interrupted as something knocked into the side of the boat. What was that, some driftwood?

 

Oh, wait… It was probably  _ him _ .

 

He walked onto the deck and his suspicions were confirmed. Ford was bending over the side of the railing, tying up the rowboat. He was either ignoring Stan or didn’t notice him. Whichever one it was, Stan honestly did not care to know.

 

Ford stood up, jotting something down quickly before facing Stanley. The two of them held eye contact but said nothing. Ford walked closer before stopping in front of his younger twin.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Ford sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Stanley, excuse me. You’re in the way and I’m going to my study.”

 

Stan sidestepped out of the way, restraining himself from punching the lights out of Ford. He opened his mouth to say something, but the other beat him to the chase.

 

“Save your breath, my answer is still no,” Ford said over his shoulder. He faced away before saying, “Learn to move on.” He then walked away without a word, thumping down the steps. Stan waited until he heard the door shut before punching the wall. Damn, it’s hard to talk to him when he’s being such a pompous asshole. He was pretty sure he was using that word correctly, but he didn’t have the mind to care at the moment.

 

Stan didn’t want to go downstairs just yet. Not when his b rother had just gone down there. That’d probably give off the wrong signal to Ford. Instead, he went outside onto the deck, sitting in one of the seats and digging out a lukewarm beer from the cooler next to him. He felt like chugging as many bottles as he was old, but one would have to do.

 

He took a sip of the drink before saying ‘screw it’ and knocking back his head, taking long, big gulps. He swallowed the last drop, taking the bottle away from his lips. Stan tapped his fingers on the neck of the bottle slowly, thinking about nothing.

 

“He’ya, Cipher, you dead yet?”

 

There was a moment of silence before an answer came. “ **Oh, I see you missed me! Admit it, you missed me! Anywho, while your crippling anxiety and lack of self-confidence is funny, I suggest you get comfortable. I managed to get here on time, but there’s one heck of a memory with your name on it. See’ya, sucker!**

”

Wait, what did he just say? Oh, that little shit is going to-

 

He was fast asleep before he could even finish his threat.

 

♦

 

**_A very confused Stan opened his eyes, only to see blackness in front of him. He was about to panic, thinking he had finally died from whatever scheme he had cooked up this time. Wait a minute, no, there was just something over his eyes. He sighed in relief._ **

 

**_Wait a minute, he had something over his eyes. This wasn’t relieving, this was a sign to panic._ **

 

**_Stan tried to move, but there was thick rope tied around h_ ** **_is wrists, bounding them to the back of the chair. His feet were also strapped down, each one to a leg of his seat. But, there wasn’t a gag on him._ **

 

**_“Hey! Who’s there? What do you want. Uh, what do I gotta pay? Do I owe you somethin’ or another?”_ **

 

**_There was no response. Well damn, he must’ve been thrown in here alone. Guess he would just have to wait it out then._ **

 

**_Just a few minutes later, he heard the sounds of a door opening and people walking in. It sounded like maybe three judging by the number of footsteps, too many for a murder to take place. One of them might spill, after all. What was going on here?_ **

 

**_Stan tried to ask, but before he could even suck in a breath to start, he was slapped hard across the face, his face jerking to the side. Dear God, it felt as if he had just been hit with a brick._ **

 

**_“No talking till I tell you to, bitch,” a man spat angrily. Stan assumed that was the man who had hit him._ **

 

**_Stan then kept his mouth shut, listening to the other men mutter to each other. What were they saying? Dammit, speak up!_ **

 

**_“So, Hal Forrester, is it?” A different man spoke, tapping some sort of stick on the ground. Stan smelt cigarette smoke in the air and gagged. Ugh, it was the expensive, smelly ones._ **

 

**_He had absolutely no clue who these guys were and why he was here. They sure sounded like they knew him. After all, they knew one of his many fake names. How’d they know it though?_ **

 

**_The stick the man had been tapping was whacked harshly against Stan’s calf. “Speak when spoken to.”_ **

 

**_“Well I dunno, I speak and I get slapped and then I don’t speak and I still get slapped. You’re giving me mixed signals here, bud.”_ **

 

**_This earned him another smack on the leg. “You best watch your tongue. You’ve already made enough mistakes starting fights with us.”_ **

 

**_Fighting with them? He hadn’t even talked to these guys before._ **

 

**_“Now,” Stan heard the sound of a chair scraping back across the floor. “You’re going to answer some questions for us.”_ **

 

**_Stan hummed in fake thought. “And if I don’t?”_ **

 

**_There was a brief silence. “Then you’re really going to regret that decision.”_ **

 

**_A hand grabbed the front of Stan’s shirt, pulling him across the table. The man’s cigarette was so close that he could feel its heat. “Now tell me, where exactly is the money you stole from us, huh?”_ **

 

**_Stan frowned. “Wait, what?”_ **

 

**_He was thrown back, a small yell accidentally slipping through when he felt his chair almost topple backwards. He sighed in relief, but turned into a hiss as he was hit with the stick on his thigh._ **

 

**_The man tsked before snapping his fingers. “You two, deal with him. Don’t stop till he feels like letting his jaw loosen.”_ **

 

**_Stan didn’t have any time to prepare himself before there was a blow to the side of his head. He was so out of focus he hadn’t even realized that the chair he was in had been knocked over. The other person took this as a chance to kick Stan’s exposed gut, stomping down hard. It would have been surprising if there wasn’t any internal bleeding afterward._ **

 

**_To Stanley, the punches and kicks seemed to be endless. He could feel his face swelling from the few punches they had landed there. Hot, warm blood spilled out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop coughing as it came up his throat. His entire body throbbed with pain. He barely realized it when the chair had been turned upright again._ **

 

**_He was panting profusely, sucking in deep breaths of air, desperately trying not to suffocate or blackout. Stan spat out a clot of blood in his mou_ ** **_th, trying his best not to vomit whatever it was he had eaten last._ **

 

**_“So, Mr. Forrester, you ready to talk yet?” The man from before asked. Stan heard the sound of a lighter clicking._ **

 

**_“I don’t know what you’re talking about in the first place,” said Stan between gasps. Obviously, that was the wrong answer._ **

 

**_There was another snap and Stan felt two hand rip open his shirt like it was tissue paper._ **

 

**_He started to panic, desperately trying to cover up his chest with his knees. He felt so exposed. They weren’t going to…?_ **

 

**_“No, no!” Stan screamed, squirming in his chair erratically. “Let me go, please, don’t do it!”_ **

 

**_“Relax, who do you take me for?” The man slapped him across the face, his hand leaving behind the strong smell of tobacco. “Do I look like a_ ** **fag** **_to you?”_ **

 

**_Stan didn’t answer, trying his best not to lose the rest of his dignity by hyperventilating in front of these guys._ **

 

**_Yet another snap from him. “Hold him still. Those ropes are strong, but they won’t keep him from squirming like a dying worm. I want him to feel every single mark.”_ **

 

**_Two hands grabbed each of Stan’s upper arms, effectively pinning him down. An arm pulled him into a chokehold, tilting his head up and away from the torso._ **

 

**_He couldn’t control his breathing. The amount of panic he had at that moment was astronomical. Questions blasted through his head. What were they going to do to him? Jesus, he felt so exposed with his torso bare._ **

 

**_Something small and circular was pressed onto Stan’s bruised gut. He was confused as to what the absolute hell this guy was doing before the burning started._ **

 

**_He screamed, his body’s reaction was to writhe away, but the goons behind him kept him still. Stan heard the man snicker. They pushed the thing harder, resulting in Stan screaming louder._ **

 

**_Stan could feel his skin sizzling from under the small thing the man was pressing on him. The pain was unbearable. He felt glad in the back of his head for having the blindfold on or else he would have to suffer with watching the world spin as he suffered._ **

 

**_After what seemed like an eternity, the man pulled the thing away. Stan was still screaming, the draft in the room stinging his open wound._ **

 

**_“It’s entertaining to hear you scream,” he said, clicking his lighter again. “It almost makes hunting you down worth it._ **

 

**_As soon as he heard it, Stan knew what this guy was pressing into him. This little shit!_ **

 

**_Stan bit his tongue as he pushed the cigar into his skin again. “Oh, come on, I know you want to squeal like a pig for me.”_ **

 

**_The man kept pressing the cigar on his chest over, and over. Stan didn’t have the energy to scream anymore. Now, he jump whimpered pathetically. He didn’t even need to be held down anymore._ **

 

**_Something wet hit his cheek. “Worthless. You’re not worth my time.” Stan heard the clicks of heels as they walked away, slamming the door shut angrily._ **

 

**_Stan’s mind felt hazy. He was so, so tired. Nothing registered in his body other than excruciating_ ** **pain** **_. Maybe he could rest his eyes for… just a second…_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao, what a ride am I right?
> 
> Okay, so a few things.
> 
> 1: I do have chapters written for this. I am not kidding, I do. I will post what I have every week, but I have no idea if I will write more for this after that.  
> 2: I wrote this years ago when I was still young and new to writing (even though it's better than my current shit rip). If I do decide to write more and it sounds different, that's why.  
> 3: I do not write for others anymore. I write for myself. This is something I am trying to better myself with, to write for my own enjoyment, not for the validation of others.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. I will update next week. All reviews and kudos are welcomed and appreciated, and I will try to reply to them all. Thank you for reading <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan returns to the Mystery Shack.  
> Reunited with the Mystery Twins.  
> A few peeks into memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter b

Stanley Pines sat comfortably in his old chair, catching up on the latest episodes of his new favorite show, The Duchess Approves. Though he’d never admit to anyone that he actually watched it. He hadn’t been able to watch any of the show on the Stan O’ War, so he was surprised to see that there was a whole new season while he had been gone. It wasn’t to his liking, though. Considering the producers had changed half the actors and the show was now in color instead of the black and white he liked. Took away the show’s feeling is what Stan said. That, and it hurt his eyes to look at so much color all at once.

 

“Ugh, she looks so different being played by that actor. Not enough emotion being portrayed,” Stan complained out loud.

Bill snickered, teasing the actor about her makeup choices. The only time the two of them weren’t bickering and arguing each other was when they watched television. It seemed they both had a hobby of finding every mistake they could.

 

It was a nice change of pace. Lately, Stan’s life had been full of tension and stress.

 

Ford and Stan had started sailing back towards the west coast of the United States a month after the talk. The tension was so thick that Stanley could feel himself choking on it. The twins only talked to one another when it was absolutely necessary, and even, then they kept their sentences short and to the point.

 

They planned to get back into Gravity Falls right before summer started. Stan was happy that they made it back just in time before Soos was going to leave further south. After multiple warm hugs and some catching up, they all waved goodbye and the two old men were by themselves again.

 

Stan hoped that Mabel and  Dipper would lighten the mood inside the shack. While yes, he was still beyond frustrated with his brother, Stan wanted to make up with him so that maybe he would comply to help. Then, after a week or two of some sort of memory therapy or whatever between all of them, Stan would come clean about what happened with Bill.

 

Stan realized what he was thinking and held his breath for Bill to say something. When nothing came, he blew a sigh of relief. He must be digging around in Stan’s mindscape to get back more memories or something like that.

 

But who did he think he was kidding? The world didn’t work like that, at least not with the Pines family. Everything had to be overly complicated when it came to them. Bill wouldn't pack up his bags just because Stan got backup.

 

Stan rubbed his eyes, trying to keep himself awake. He had no idea what was going on in the show anymore. Not like it mattered considering the plot was all over the place anyway. Seriously, where were they going with this storyline?

 

“ **Everything humans make is terrible, Fez! You all want to deny it, though, which is frustrating to those like me who know better.** ”

 

Well, Bill was back again. Great.

 

“ **Watch it, Stanley.** ”

 

Stan grumbled under his breath for the demon to shut it. Squirming in his seat to get comfortable, he pulled a blanket up to his shoulders to get warm. He yawned loudly, wondering what time it was.

 

Watching The Duchess Approves got old quickly and it wasn’t long until Stan’s eyes had glazed over and eyelids drooped.

 

Stan gave up fighting sleep and leaned back in the chair, too tired to walk to his room.

 

Mabel and Dipper would be here tomorrow. He’d have to get some rest to go pick them up with Ford.

 

♦

 

**_Stanley Pines, or now going by his brother’s name, Stanford Pines, waited i_ ** **_mpatiently. Not the calm waiting where you’re leaning back with your arms folded behind your head without a care in the world, no. This was the kind where you’re on the edge of your seat, biting your nails with nervousness._ **

 

**_The tense hospital setting didn’t help matters for him at all. Sterile white walls seemed to close in on him and the smell of disinfectant overwhelmed his senses. Stan bites the inside of his cheek and taps his foot. He starts to taste blood in his mouth. Hospitals did not remind him of positive things._ **

 

**_His younger brother, Shermy Pines, sat next to him with the calmer form of waiting explained in detail earlier. The younger brother laughs as he notices his brother’s nervousness. He pats Stan’s knee._ **

 

**_“Don’t worry, Ford. Soon you’re going to be a great uncle for these new little bundles of joy,” Shermy smiled to himself. “And soon, I’ll be a grandpa.”_ **

 

**_Stan forced a smile for his little brother. Or at least that’s what he told himself, but it was really more to calm himself down more than anything. He didn’t deserve to be in the presence of the Pines, he didn’t want anyone in his biological family getting hurt._ **

 

**_A nurse walks in through a door with a clipboard in her hand and a pen in the other. “The Pines family?” she calls out, scanning the waiting room._ **

 

**_Stan almost leaps out of his seat while Shermy gets up like a normal person.  They are lead through the hallways to a room, the nurse holding it open for the two of them. They thank her politely and walk in, the door closing quietly behind them to give them all privacy._ **

 

**_Lying on the hospital bed was Shermy’s daughter. Stan had never met her before, but apparently, Ford had so he would have to act as casual as he could._ **

 

**_The couple waved them hel_ ** **_lo. Even when the two of them looked so exhausted, their smiles were so bright and happy. In the arms of Sherry’s daughter laid two small bundles of yellow blankets. Stan sees a small hand try to reach out of the blankets to grab their mother’s braid, but it falls back down in defeat._ **

 

**_Next thing Stan knows, the two bundles are handed to him. His arms are stiff as he holds the baby twins, afraid that any movement will hurt them._ **

 

**** **_It was so shocking to him. Him, a harde_ ** **_ned man, once known for being cruel and doing most anything just to get by, holding these new lives in his arms. It frightened him. As if just touching the two of them would taint them with his own past._ **

 

**_Stan cradles the two of them in his arms, their heads supported by the crooks of his elbows. Two bright pink faces peek out of the blankets, tufts of brown hair poking out slightly. One baby, the one reaching for her mother earlier, was already awake. Her brown eyes stared up at Stan, practically shining with pure baby innocence. Her fingers were in her mouth, gnawing on them, slobber getting all over their mouth. How adorably disgusting._ **

 

**_In Stan’s other arm laid the other half of the set, still fast asleep. Their small chest rose and fell softly and their mouth was open slightly so that they could breathe. The tear tracks on his cheeks showed that they weren’t this quiet when he had come out. All his crying must have tired the little tucker out. Stan’s eyes widened at the sight of the baby’s forehead, seeing the exact constellation of the Big Dipper marked on his skin. That wasn’t something you saw every day. It sort of reminded him of…_**

 

**_The other baby cooed and wiggled against the blankets they were trapped in, trying to get back Stan’s attention._ **

 

" ** _What did you name them?” Stan asked, sticking his tongue out at the fussy baby playfully._**

 

**_“Mabel and Mason. They are named after-“ She was abruptly cut off by Mason’s crying piercing all their ears._ **

 

**_Stan was startled by the baby’s yelling. Not knowing what to do, he laughed nervously, playing it cool. “Heh, uh, looks like you got your energy back, huh, little guy?”_ **

 

**_The baby stopped crying at the deep rumbling of Stan’s unfamiliar voice. He looked up at the old man. He reached out for him, seemingly wanting to pinch his nose._ **

 

******_Having the both of the twin’s bright eyes focused on him was too overwhelming. He felt the tears gathering his eyes and he pulled the two cooing babies closer to his chest, careful not to squish them._ **

 

**_“Welcome to the world, you two knuckleheads.”_ **

 

♦

 

Stan spotted Mabel’s brightly colored sweater the second the bus pulled to a stop. He watched the two blurs of brown hair race down the aisle of the bus and down the stairs. Stan crouched down, already prepared for the twins tackling him in a hug.

 

He was almost knocked off of his feet as the two of them threw themselves at their grunkle. He was glad they’d thrown their bags to the side or else he’d be flat on his butt as of right now.

 

Mabel’s wardrobe seemed to have gotten even brighter and sparkly than last year. Apparently, her knitting skills had improved as well, judging from the sweater she was wearing now. It looked store-bought compared to Stan’s own stitching skills. It was a bright hot pink with silver sequins along the collar and sleeves with an ice cream cone stitched on the front.

 

The two of them pulled away, Mabel squealed and shook her fists happily. “I’ve missed my favorite grunkles so much!”

 

Dipper looked over Stan’s shoulder, brows furrowed in confusion. “Speaking of grunkles, where’s Great Uncle Ford?”

 

“What, you aren’t happy to see me?” Stan teased, ruffling Dipper’s hair. “He’s back at the shack. Said he was too busy with whatever he’s doing.” Stan did his best not to scowl and roll his eyes.

 

The twins didn’t miss the tone of his voice, the both of them exchanging concerned looks.

 

“Oh, oh! Hold on, I’ll be right back! I need to help get Waddles off the bus!” The thirteen-year-old girl was already halfway up the stairs before she shouted back, “Waddles missed you too Grunkle Stan! He got super big, too!”

 

Stan smiled at Mabel’s enthusiasm. Yep, these two were just what he needed to cheer him up.

 

“ **Ooh, Pine Tree and Shooting Star! Long time, no see, huh? Maybe I could say hello to them sometime. I’m sure Pine Tree would be happy to see me.** ” The triangle sniggered.

 

Stan told the demon to stuff it and cleared his throat to get Dipper’s attention.

 

“So, what’cha planning to do this summer?” Stan asked, crouching down to pick up the forgotten bags.

 

Dipper bent down to help. “Not sure yet. I was thinking it’d be fun to make my own journal, like Great Uncle Ford’s. He got rid of his originals, but I still miss reading them. So I thought, why not make my own for others to read?”

 

Bill snickered in Stan’s head, making a comment about putting a pine tree on the cover. Why he found it so funny, Stan didn’t know.

 

Stan ignored Bill to the best of his ability, focusing on his nephew in front of him. “Sounds good to me as long as you keep your head outta trouble and stay safe. I was too reckless with you kiddos last year, so I’m tightening your leashes.”

 

“By the way, where’s the hat Wendy gave ya? Didn’t lose it already, did’ja?”

 

Dipper patted his suitcase. “It’s in here. The bus driver wouldn’t let me wear it for whatever reason. But Wendy and I were talking and we were thinking of doing some sort of trade every summer. When I’m here, we each get our original hats back. But when I leave, we trade again.”

 

“Sounds too complicated to me. Good luck with that, kid.”

Their small talk was interrupted by Mabel struggling to walk down the stairs, a pig almost half her size in her arms. She was huffing from the effort of simply holding Waddles. Stan thought back to when she could pick up the pig with little to no effort.

 

“Sorry I took so long!” Mabel said, red in the face. “Detective Waddles found something interesting underneath a bus cushion and thought it needed investigating.”

 

The bus doors closed as Mabel stepped out, the bus driver obviously in a hurry to leave the odd family. Waddles, happy to be on the ground instead of the bus, nuzzled against Stanley’s leg, squealing for attention.

 

“Nice to see you too, pig,” Stan said gruffly with a slight undertone of fondness. He patted the pig’s head before standing up with a groan. His back was acting up again.

 

Mabel and Dipper picked up the rest of their bags, packing them into the Stanley Mobile.

 

“Who’s ready to go to the Mystery Shack?”

 

♦

 

The three of them pulled up to the Mystery Shack, the younger two were excited to see Ford. The last one, not so much.

 

All of them managed to squeeze through the door with all of the bags in their hands, Waddles preferring to stay outside and sniff around. As soon as Mabel and Dipper see Ford sitting in the kitchen, his papers strewn across the table and flipping a pen in his hand in thought. Ford notices them, looking up from his work and smiles at the kids. “Welcome back, kids.”

 

Mabel and Dipper tackle the man, almost knocking the chair backward if it wasn’t for Ford clutching onto the edge of the table. “Woah! Missed you too!” He laughed and ruffled the kids’ hair, Mabel protesting to her hair being tousled.

 

“Why don’t you two go unpack your things upstairs? I have some things to discuss with Stanley.”

 

The younger twins nodded, glancing nervously at each other as they walked away. They bent down to pick up their bags and Mabel challenged Dipper to a race up the stairs. The thumping footfalls got quieter the farther the twins ran, leaving Stanford and Stanley alone.

 

The uncomfortable silence was back. Stan leaned against the doorframe with his hands crossed over his chest and Ford was straightening his papers. He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses and putting down his neat pile of papers.

 

“You’ll have to get over it soon, Stanley.”

 

“And why should I, Stanford? Why should I let go and get over about what matters to me?”

 

Ford stayed silent and Stan wanted to count it as a victory but knew he was lying to himself. Everything was a loss unless Ford would decide to help.

 

Since Ford wouldn’t talk, Stan did. “Be careful with the kids this summer,” he started. “Dipper is wanting to start his own journal this year. Mabel will most likely start another scrapbook. Take this opportunity to actually spend some time with them this summer.”

 

With that, Stan pushed himself off the doorframe and away from his older brother.

 

Stan went to the living room, plopping down into his chair and sighing with his hands on his face. No, he wasn’t sad about this. He sat up straighter.

 

What did Ford know? He’s not the one missing over half of his life story. How would he feel in Stan’s situation?

 

Stan couldn’t even trust Ford anymore. If he wouldn’t even help him with his memories, he surely wouldn’t help with getting rid of Bill. He would just yell at him for making a bad decision instead of coming for help right away. Without letting Stan explain, probably. Then Bill would just destroy the world because of one misunderstanding.

 

“ **I can hear you, y’know. I’ve been here the whole time.** ”

 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Stan growled, hunching over and squeezing his temples. Bill only cackled, making a snarky comment about how futile Stan’s attempts to rid him were.   
  


“ **I don’t want to take over your universe, remember? Is your memory that bag, Fez.** ”

 

"Like I should trust you to keep your word, demon. You took advantage of me in a time of vulnerability, you bastard.”

 

Bill tsked. Stan could practically see his wagging his finger at his accusation. “ **Rude, Fez! You chose to let that memory affect your actions, not me!** ”

 

“Stop that. It’s not my fault you chose the worst possible memory to show me.”

 

Bill tried to keep up the argument, but Stan pointedly ignored him. The demon was just trying to egg him on. He needed something to distract himself with.

 

How were Mabel and Dipper doing with their packing? Maybe they needed some help. Even if they don’t, he’s helping them no matter what they say.

 

The kids were staying up in the attic again this year. Though they’d have to be in different rooms next year due to their… changing bodies. Puberty was a force of evil. They were kind of pushing their limits by rooming together this year, but he doubted they’d want to sleep separately until they were used to being back in Gravity Falls.

 

Stan climbed to the top of the stairs, popping his back. He knocked on the twin’s door, asking for permission to come in.

 

“Just a second!” Mabel yelled, muffled through the door. Stan stood next to the door, waiting patiently. Though he was getting fed up with Bill. He was still rambling about how nothing was his fault and that he was a ‘being with no flaws’.

 

“Yeah, you say that and yet you managed to be tricked by me of all people.”

 

Bill either ignored or didn’t hear Stan’s jab at him, instead focusing on the fact he got him to respond. Saying he knew he could break ‘a weak mortal’ like him down.

 

A worryingly large amount of thumps were coming from behind the door and Stan knocked again. “Everything okay in there, sweetie?”

 

Mabel opened the door, hair frazzled and out of breath. “Sorry about that, Grunkle Stan! Dipper and I were just trying to move the furniture. Do some redecorating.” She waggled her fingers dramatically.

 

Stan looked at the room. Apparently Soos had forgotten to clean out the attic out before he had left w ith his abuelita. He’d turned the kids’ bedroom into a storage room, boxes full of semi-creepy pictures of Soos were all tucked into the corner. Luckily he hadn’t gotten rid of the important things like the beds and desk. A dresser was knocked over, explaining the bangs and loud thump from before.

 

“Anything you needed, Grunkle Stan?” Dipper asked, grunting as he tried pushed his  bed back into its respective corner.

 

“I was coming up to see if you two needed any help getting unpacked, but you need more help than I’d originally thought. Really should have come up here to clean before you kids came,” Stan said, grumbling the last part to himself.

 

Mabel held the door open for him, asking for him help move the dresser so that they could put away some their clothes. Stan pushed it upright with a huff before pushing it against the wall with Dipper and Mabel’s assistance.

 

The three of them continued to rearrange and clean the room with some small talk and jokes. Soon, they had all of Soos’ things packed away in the other room and the furniture back where it belonged.

 

“Mabel calls the dresser first! Dip-Dip, you can put your clothes in the closet for while I put away my skirts.” Mabel opened her suitcase, pulling out what seemed like hundreds of sweater out.

 

“Okay. Not like I have that much to put away except for a few shirts.”

 

“Ew! Gross, Dipper! It’s called hygiene, have you heard of it?”

 

Dipper stuck his tongue out at Mabel and Stan laughed. He and Ford used to be just like this when they were younger. He just wish he knew what happened to that.

 

“ **Give me time, Fez. You’ll know soon.** ”

 

Stan almost thanked the demon but quickly bit his tongue. He almost forgot who he was dealing with here.

 

“Either of you two need help putting stuff away?”

 

“Yes, please!” Mabel said, holding out an armful of sweaters for Stan to take. “I need some help folding these up. I might’ve brought too many, but I’m not sure. We’ll just have to see. I know there’s not enough hangars, though.”

 

The two worked in silence, Dipper finishing a little too quickly and moving on to unpack the rest of his belongings.

The repetitive motion of folding clothes helped Stan ignore Bill’s annoying talking. Fold in and over. In and over.

 

“Mabel, are these all different sweaters than last year?”

 

“Yep! All made by me except for a couple of cute ones I saw at the store,” Mabel said proudly. “My sweaters from last year were either too small or falling apart, so I had to make more. It was a great way to practice.” Mabel waved around a knitting needle she pulled out of her bag.

 

“Too bad your brother hasn’t gotten any new clothes. It’d probably help with his body odor.”

 

Dipper protested, yelling an empty threat to throw the biggest book he had at Stan.

 

Mabel played along. “Dipper’s still the same size as last year, too! Now I’m a full inch taller than him!”

 

“No way! I gotta see this to believe it. Dipper, get over here.”

 

Mabel grabbed the struggling Dipper, lining them up back to back. Stan roared with laughter. “Once a Little Dipper, always a Little Dipper!”

 

Dipper puffed out his cheeks, flushed from embarrassment. “I’ll show you, Stan. One day I’ll be taller than you are now.”

 

“Yeah, sure, kid. Nah, I’m just poking fun at ‘cha.”

 

The trio finished fixing up the room, the dust now cleared and empty suitcases tucked under the beds. Stan opened the triangular shaped window to let in a breeze, all of them resting on Mabel’s bed.

 

Mabel stretched. “I’ll hang up my posters tomorrow probably. I’m too tired from cleaning this place up,” she suddenly gasped. “We need to go grocery shopping too! I need to start making some Mabel Juice!”

 

Both Dipper and Stan wrinkled their nose in disgust. “The coffee-nightmare baby returns,” Stan shuddered.

 

Mabel punched his arm. “Don’t insult my art form.”

 

They all leaned up against the wall, Mabel and Dipper on each side of their grunkle. They stayed silent, listening to the birds chirping outside and enjoying the occasional breezes wafting through the window. The room started to get dimmer, the sun already going down. It had taken more time for them to unpack than they had originally thought.

 

Mabel eventually moved to turn on her lamp to keep the room lit. It was at this point Dipper decided to speak up.

 

“Grunkle Stan?”

 

He hummed in response.

 

“Is there something going on between you and Ford?”

 

Stan’s stomach dropped. “That obvious huh?”

 

Mabel nodded. “You two were tense, even when we hugged you. It’s not something serious, is it?”

 

Stan pulled his feet up on the bed and crossed his arms. “Maybe not to Ford, but to me it is.”

 

“What do you mean?” Dipper pushed.

 

“Well, we all know how I sacrificed my memories to defeat Bill, that’s common knowledge at this point,” The twins nodded, looking at him with their full attention. “But then I ‘regained’ my memories over the last week of summer just before you two left.” Stan said using air quotes.

 

Mabel sat up straighter. “Wait! You don’t have all your memories back still?!”

 

Stan snapped and pointed at Mabel. “You got it, kiddo.”

 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Grunkle Stan! We just kinda assumed and we didn’t know-“

 

“It’s alright, kid. S’not your fault that I never clarified what I meant by ‘all’ memories. Nah, I only really remembered childhood memories and most of the last summer. All that and of course the past year or so with Ford on the boat. He knew about me not having all my memories back yet, but he told me to be patient.”

 

“Now, I’d never been happy with the fact I couldn’t remember almost anything from my past. I thought I’d learned to deal with it, but recently, I’ve decided that I have had enough. I want to know who the  _ real _ Stanley Pines is. How are you supposed to feel like yourself when you don't even remember who you used to be? Do you understand where I’m coming from here?”

 

The twins nodded slowly, trying to understand how their great-uncle felt.

 

Stan sighed, pulling his bare onto the bed and pulling his legs close to his chest. “So I tried to ask Ford for help, and he flat out refused.”

 

“But why?” Dipper interrupted.

 

“Something about me needing to ‘let go of the past.’ Sounds to me like he doesn’t want me remembering anything.”

 

“What if he did something in the past he regretted? Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to!” Mabel said.

 

Stan scoffed. “Then he needs to face the mistakes of his past. I’m still trying to find out my past and he needs to accept his.”

 

“Have you remembered any memories lately?”

 

“Yeah,” Stan nodded. “And it ain’t fun trying to remember them all by yourself, I can tell you that now.”

 

“ **But you aren’t alone!~ You have me helping you, remember?** ” Bill teased.

 

“What if we were to help you, Grunkle Stan?”

 

Dipper nodded, agreeing with his sister. “Yeah, we could help! I don’t know if you remember, but when Ford came back out of the portal, the two of you kinda spilled your entire life stories to us.”

 

“Yeah, this could work! We’ll start out slow of course, maybe  just casual talk with you every day or so. We don’t want to overwhelm you or anything.”

 

“Then something we say could possibly trigger a memory! This is perfect!”

 

“What do you say?” The twins looked up at their grunkle, eyes determined and hopeful.

 

Stan scratched the back of his neck, smiling bashfully. “Well, if you kids want to. You don’t have to spend your summer helping out this old monster sort out his problems.”

 

Mabel shrugged. “You never know, could be fun!”

 

“Then at least take some time off from grunkle therapy, alrighty? Dipper, still gotta start on that journal, right? Mabel, you planning on making another scrapbook this year?”

 

Mabel nodded her head enthusiastically , clenching her fists happily. “Of course I am! I’ll need more pictures this year with all of us! And once you and Grunkle Ford make up with each other, I’m getting so many pictures of you two bonding.”

 

“Speaking of bonding, can we do something tomorrow, Grunkle Stan? To kickstart the summer?” Dipper asked, smiling at the thought.

 

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” Stan shrugged.

 

The twins looked at each other, mischievous grins on their faces. Stan suddenly regretted his word choice.

 

“But! If we’re doing something tomorrow, that means you two are going to bed right now.”

 

Mabel and Dipper’s grins dropped, the two of them groaning and whining.

 

“No complaining! Now get in bed, Dipper.”

 

Stan stood up, but Mabel caught his sleeve. “Wait! Could we all have a sleepover up here together? Pretty please? It’s the first day of summer, we gotta! Dipper wouldn’t mind, right?”

 

Dipper shrugged, trying to act nonchalant about it. “Sure. We are not all sleeping on my bed though.”

 

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Fine, we’ll sleep on mine. What do you say, Grunkle Stan?”

 

“Alright, I don't see why not.”

 

Stan climbed back onto Mabel’s bed, Dipper grabbing a bunch of blankets for all of them out of the closet. Stan doused the lantern’s light and the three of them got comfortable.

 

Just as Stan was about to drift off, Mabel jumped up off the bed. “Wait! I forgot Waddles! A sleepover isn’t a sleepover without the party pig!”

 

Mabel raced out of the door leaving Stan and Dipper behind. The only sound you could hear was the crickets chirping outside.

 

“Grunkle Stan?”

 

He grunted, too tired to say anything.

 

“You and Great Uncle Ford will make up soon, right?”

“Of course we will, Dipper. It just might take some time until we see eye-to-eye on this. Don’t worry, this fight won’t last forever.”

 

He felt Dipper relax beside him, breathing a soft sigh of relief. “Thanks, Stan.”

 

“Goodnight, kid.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

“ **Sweet dreams, Pine Tree.** ”

 

Stan was asleep before Mabel had come back up with Waddles, already nose deep in another memory Bill had dug up for him.

 

♦

 

**_Two years._ **

 

**_That’s how long he’d been working on this portal_ ** **_and Stan was no closer to fixing it than when he’d started. The same mistakes were being repeated and his frustration was already boiling._ **

 

**_It was hard to put up a mask of fake cheerfulness whenever he opened the Murder Hut every day. The customers got on his nerves from doing the slightest thing and it all seemed like too much work._ **

 

**_The portal, however, was never enough work. He needed to get his brother back whether he died doing it or not. The problem was that the journal Ford had left him with didn’t have near the amount of information he needed. So, he had to resort to studying about physics, engineering, and whatever else even remotely looked like it might help down in the basement._ **

 

**_But Stan’s year of studying was no match for the machine._ **

 

**_Another light blinked as a warning, but Stan wasn’t fast enough. A pipe sprayed smoke in Stanl_ ** **_ey’s face, making him step back sputtering and coughing. The smell lingered heavily in the air making the small lab he was in reek._ **

 

**_“Damn it all!” Stanley yelled, throwing the wrench he was holding to the ground. He fell to his knees, covering his face and willing himself not to cry over the situation. It was a bad habit of his to cry when frustrated. It got him beaten more than once when he was living the life of crime._ **

 

**_“Stanford wouldn’t give up, so neither should I,” Stan spoke aloud._ **

 

**_He tried picking up the wrench again, but his fingers went slack and it clattered back to the ground. He couldn’t do it. Not right now. Stan didn’t even know how long he had been down here. He needed a short break, just for a while._ **

 

**_Stan walked out the front door and almost threw himself onto the outside couch. He subconsciously brought the journal up with him, forgetting to put it away before he came up. Stan just_ ** **_put it next to his thigh and leaned back, looking out at the scenery._ **

 

**_The smell of rain and ozone was wafting through the air, quickly chasing away the smoky scent from before. Water droplets_ ** **_dripped off the edge of the roof, hitting the ground with small taps. The ground was wet and muddy, looking like quicksand from where Stan sat on the porch._ **

 

**_A deer crossed the clearing, it’s hooves sinking into the squishy ground with each step. It paid Stan no mind until he moved his hand to his lap. The deer lifted its head in fear, as if it was about to get hit by a car._ **

 

**_The two made eye contact for a solid minute before the deer finally ran off into the forest, disappearing beyond the tree line._ **

 

**_Stan relaxed back into his seat, not realizing he had tensed up. It didn’t feel right to be sitting here like this when Ford could be in danger or even_ ** **_dea-_ **

 

**_He cut off his thoughts, refusing to think so negatively. His finger traced along the golden hand on the cover of the journal. He picked it up and set it in his lap gently. He sighed deeply, hitting his head back on the wall._ **

 

**_"What do I do, Ford?” Stan asked, holding the journal to his face, almost acting as if he was actually talking to his brother. “You’d know what to do if I was sucked in through that portal. No, you would have prevented it.”_ **

 

**_Stan leaned his head back, holding the journal in his lap. “You probably wouldn’t even bother to help a pathetic whelp like me anyways. Not when you have so many more important things to do. You were the one with potential, not me.”_ **

 

**_He heard his brother’s voice echo in his head._ **

 

**_"Stanley, Stanley! Do something!”_ **

 

**_“But what do I do, Ford? You left me with hardly anything to work with, what am I supposed to do?”_ **

 

**** **_Stan perked up, suddenly remembering something that he should have realized long ago. Didn’t Ford say he’d hidden the others? Did that mean there was more than just the one he had in his hands now?_ **

 

**_Where they out in the woods? Under the house?_ **

 

**_Would they help bring Ford back, right?_ **

 

**_He quickly flipped through the book’s pages, finding the blueprint page he has stared at for hours trying to understand. Did this mean this was only a piece of the puzzle? He gasped aloud and jumped to his feet._ **

 

**_Stanley’s motivation was back on full drive. Pulling his dirty hoodie closer around himself and tucking the journal safely beneath his arm, Stan marched out into the forest, deciding to go in the direction the deer had left._ **

 

**_He had two missions now. Fix the portal, and find the rest of the journals._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and kudos are appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for suffering through the first chapter of this monstrosity. Comments and kudos are always appreciated! 
> 
> Updates should be every Friday or Sunday. If not, then I'm probably busy or Archive is being a major hoe AGAIN.


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